


Teeth

by Eruden



Category: Original Work
Genre: Adults being awkward, Adults in college, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Exophilia, F/M, Human / Monster Romance, Monster - Freeform, Monster Boyfriend, School Project Trope, The other members of the group will show up... eventually... I hope, demon x human, lol, monster fucking, monster x human romance, shadow demon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:48:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 30,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24719314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eruden/pseuds/Eruden
Summary: When Thalia decided to go back to college, she kinda-sorta hoped to reignite the excitement she felt as a young adult.Enter Maktov Algrise, a shadow demon whose corporeal form is constantly swathed in darkness. Well, except his teeth. Which, strangely, catch Thalia’s eye to the point of distraction. (Much to Maktov’s chagrin.)Everything is fine, as she watches the shadowy figure from afar. Well, until they’re assigned to an animation group project for their ambiguous art class. As two of the oldest - generally more responsible and stable - of the group, Maktov and Thalia find themselves spending more time together in efforts to complete the project.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

At first, Thalia Harper didn’t understand why his teeth caught her gaze. Perhaps it was an old instinct, passed down through millennia from an ancestor that used to scurry beneath the feat of dinosaurs. Whenever he talked, her gaze drifted to his maw, with his rows of sharp teeth. And her heart did, indeed, thrum a little harder.

But she didn’t think it was out of fear.

When she went back to college at thirty-four, she wondered if - almost hoped - she’d reignite some form of excitement in her life. After dropping out at twenty to have a baby with an abusive deadbeat that eventually disappeared, she’d struggled to maintain friendships, passions, and hobbies while “single momming” it up. Now, with her baby a ripe old age of fourteen and her career as a writer for games, Thalia itched for something else. 

It had been her darling Taryn’s suggestion she go back to college to pursue whatever classes caught her interest. In reality, Taryn probably just wanted to have their friends over without Thalia around and being a general, parental embarrassment.

So, Thalia found herself in a dark corner of the campus library, sitting across a table from Maktov Algrise the shadow demon, trying to plan out a group animation project. 

Like her, he was on the older end of the college-goer spectrum. From their first day, he’d introduced himself as a ‘reborn college student’ with some number of work years under his belt. True to his kin, his physical form was swathed in darkness, like a corporeal aura currently wearing glasses, dark blue jeans, and a button-up white shirt. It made guessing his age almost impossible.

Those teeth, though, were anything but physical. Large and sharp and catching the light just right. They never failed to draw her eye. Goosebumps skirted over her skin as she wondered how they’d feel raking across the flesh of her neck or sinking, gently, into her shoulder.

“Are you even listening?” Exasperation rasped through Maktov’s voice, drawing Thalia’s eye from his mouth to his completely white eyes. He let out a sigh and, though he lacked pupils, she got the sense he was rolling his eyes at her.

Frustration peppered Maktov’s thoughts. He knew little when it came to his classmates and, honestly, he preferred it that way. Had he known this particular teacher would expect group work, he would’ve avoided it. It was too late now.

“Yes, of course I’m listening,” Thalia replied, indignantly, crossing her arms as heat licked across her face. Faintly, she wished the other members of the group had deigned to show up. But, the others were 20-somethings, with more classes or jobs or parties to attend.

“Then what was I saying?” He didn’t lean across the table. Maktov sat ramrod straight, head inclined just slightly to indicate curious annoyance. People stared at him. Who wouldn’t stare at the shadow man with sharp teeth and pupiless eyes? It wasn’t as if his people were common, like lycans and vampires and orcs. He was used to it, but this woman was so blatant. Didn’t she even have the courtesy to be discreet?

Thalia pressed her lips together at his challenge, mind scrabbling to recall his words she only half-listened to. “You were complaining about how hard it was to divvy up the work when over half the group couldn’t come.”

Even before Maktov began speaking, she knew she’d missed something important. The darkness around him became prickly, like the way an agitated dog’s fur stood on end. “And I asked you what your skills were, to which you answered by staring at my mouth.”

Her mouth snapped open, ready to deny or make an excuse, before her lips pressed tightly together. Maktov’s darkness whipped with agitation and his white eyes narrowed with displeasure. Now wasn’t the time to make excuses. But she couldn’t bring herself to admit his mouth, and his teeth, fascinated her.

He heaved a sigh, standing as he collected his strewn items from the table. The fortitude for such an interaction, with other finals looming over his head, exhausted him. Bitter annoyance clipped into his deep voice as he spoke, “Look, if you can’t work with me, we should talk to the professor. Get a group reassignment.” 

“Why wouldn’t I work with you?” She blinked, confused at the sudden shift from her classmate. Suddenly, their dusty dark corner felt colder. The ambient sounds of the library faded away as Thalia focused on Maktov.

He didn’t bother pausing in stacking up his items. “Fear, bigotry, discomfort. Take your pick, I’m no stranger to the reasons.”

She’d gasp and declare her innocence, he knew, affronted at the very implication. This song and dance was all too common. 

“I don’t have a problem with you.” Thalia frowned, brows furrowing. Why in the world would he think that? When Maktov’s movements paused and his eyes darted to her face, she tensed. That was wrong of her to say. She should’ve apologized for making him uncomfortable. This was obviously a sore spot.

“Ah, so you were staring, because you like my pearly smile.” At those sarcastic words, Maktov’s maw split wide, showing off his rows of sharp, interlocking teeth. He expected her to flinch and pull back, like a small animal in the face of a greater predator. Maybe she’d stutter out a denial, despite the fact they’d both know the truth.

Thalia didn’t flinch, though. Her gaze flickered to his smile, following the edges of his teeth, then away. Silence fell between the two. Thalia shifted awkwardly in her seat, the heat intensifying across her face. Biting her bottom lip, she slotted the words together stiltedly, “I cannot deny an inexplicable… interest in your teeth.”

She swallowed as the silence quickly returned. His eyes were on her, leering. Bracing herself, Thalia waited for the outrage at her inappropriate behavior to come crashing out of Maktov.

All she got, however, was a simple, “What.” 

The word wasn’t a question. The word was pure bafflement and confusion, with just a hint of realization. It hinted at the swirl of clashing thoughts inside Maktov’s mind.

Thalia groaned, putting her head in her hands. For that moment, it felt as if the world was hyper-focused on them, as the outside world seemed to silence entirely. “Can we get back to the project? Please?”

She didn’t look up until she heard Maktov sit. As if nothing happened, he had a pen and notebook out, scribbling something down on the page. He seemed resigned as he sighed, “Fine. What are you good at?” 

“I’m a writer by trade, so I can make up a story for whatever we need.” Relief flitted through Thalia as the focus shifted. She didn’t want a different group nor did she want Maktov frustrated by her staring. 

The overall project wasn’t that daunting for a writer: A three to five minute animated short. Though, it was a final project, so tensions were high for good grades. Thalia was confident she could write something sufficient and assist in other areas.

Maktov only grunted in reply, scribbling something down in his notebook. He tried to focus on the chore at hand and not consider all the thoughts swarming him.

When the silence dragged on a breath too long, she prompted, “What about you?”

“Artist,” he replied tersely. His shoulders tensed, trying to hang on to his anger at the absent members. Anger was easier than whatever else was whorling about his head. “Which means I’ll probably do the bulk of the work, since the others can’t be bothered to come.”

“I can probably help with some of that.” Thalia frowned again, growing tired of his bad attitude. He glanced at her, something shifting in the shadows around his face. Was he cocking an eyebrow at her? She shifted under the look, heat roiling in her stomach. “I’m not, like, a master artist, but I storyboard my scenes, sometimes.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Around them, the sound of a bustling library filled the silence between them. Pages turning, people whispering, the softened footfalls of sneakers on business grade carpet, someone giggling between the stacks. In an effort to not stare at her partner, Thalia’s gaze gleaned over their surroundings. Maktov shifting in his seat caught her eye, though. “It’s probably a good idea to keep designs simple, so it’ll be quicker and you can help.”

“We still need music, sound effects, and title cards. Maybe voice acting.” His bit of give encouraged Thalia, considering what else would have to be done for the project. There was plenty of work to spread around. “The others can do that, since they could do it at home. We just need to e-mail them.”

He grumbled, grudgingly, “I suppose.”

More silence. Thalia shifted in her seat, awkwardness turning the quiet into tension. Undoubtedly, he was still frustrated with her from earlier. Or maybe her ‘interest’ in his teeth displeased him. She wasn’t exactly a spry college girl, after all, and most men seemed to prefer obscenely younger ‘quarry.’ Dissatisfaction pursed her lips at the thought.

“Well, we’ve at least figured who’s doing what!” Thalia stood, a smile stretched across her lips as she forced the amicable tone. “Should I e-mail the rest of the group? Or would you like the duty?” 

“If you have their e-mails, you do it.” He took his phone, snapping a picture of what he’d written, before tearing the paper from his notebook. Shoving the paper toward her, he curtly said, “Here.”

She took the paper, glancing over Maktov’s impressive handwriting. It was a list of things that had yet to be assigned, with particular - absent - group members beside each one. Strange. He didn’t seem to have their e-mails - if he did, he’d have e-mailed them himself, Thalia surmised - but he thought he knew who would be best acclimated to specific duties? Shrugging, she folded the paper snugly into her current reading material. “Is online conferencing okay with you? I’m not sure we can get everyone to meet at one time… obviously.” 

“Yes,” replied Maktov, also getting to his feet. He wanted to retreat and meditate on this situation. Thalia tried to ignore how much taller he seemed, close up, after admiring him from afar for most the semester. “Messaging and video calls should work well.”

“Okay,” she adjusted her hold on her armful of books, binders, and notebooks. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Thalia realized she didn’t quite want to say good-bye. But her earlier transgressions made her guts prickle. He wouldn’t want to linger, anyway. Another smile forced its way to her lips as she looked up at him. “Well, I’ll see you around, then.”

He simply nodded in return, but that was it. 

Turning quickly, Thalia strode from the library. Her scrunched shoulders burned, as if she could feel Maktov’s stare heat across her back. It took all her willpower to not glance back. Gods, when she decided to head back to college, she didn’t anticipate acting like an awkward, overly-hormonal young adult again. 


	2. Chapter 2

It turned out, online messages and video calls were not fine. 

At least, not for Maktov and Thalia.

The other group members sufficed with claiming duties in singular messages in the group chat. Maktov and Thalia, on the other hand, were workshopping the story and the designs. For Thalia, it was enjoyable to dabble in a medium other than app games or - when she was lucky - video games.

In fact, in her earnestness, she came up with three rough outlines. 

…Maktov had problems with each one. Too detailed, too much story for such a short timeframe, too “juvenile,” too derivative.

Then, when Maktov offered up some character designs as inspiration, it was Thalia’s turn to be critical.

Frustrated and annoyed with one another, they both agreed to meet to hash out an idea face-to-face. Thalia’s house was chosen as the battleground.

The hours leading up to Maktov’s arrival, Thalia rushed around her home, tidying it in an agitated spree. Junkmail being shoved into a bin for shredding later. Bananas a little too ripe baked into a hasty banana bread. The odd, empty bottle of soda - left over from Taryn’s time alone while Thalia went to school - thrown out. Dirty laundry washed and haphazardly stashed into her bedroom closet.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were excited.” From the couch in the living room, holding their cell phone casually in their hand, Taryn grinned at their mom. 

Thalia paused in the entryway to the living room, having returned from stowing another load of laundry in Taryn’s closet.

“I think you mean annoyed,” retorted Thalia, wrinkling her nose. Maktov was worse than any commissioner she had worked with in the past. Exacting standards, particular tastes, less-than-stellar communication abilities. Ugh, every text of his grated on her!

“Oh, right,” Thalia snorted, that grin growing on their lips, “Because I totally jump for my phone when someone annoying texts me.”

A knock on the front door interrupted the mother-child back-and-forth. Lips pressed thin, Thalia gave Taryn a look before going to the door. She regretted being so open about her interest in Maktov - or ‘Toothy’ as Taryn called him - with her child. But she didn’t realize he’d ever make an appearance at her home and it was too late to bemoan it now. 

Pasting a friendly smile on and bracing herself, Thalia opened the door.

As the door opened, revealing Thalia and her home beyond, Maktov focused on the job at hand. He was here to talk about the project and, hopefully, make some damn progress already. Something about this human left knots in his stomach, though. He attributed it to their nearly antagonistic conversations over the last couple days.

Somewhere, deep inside, he knew it was more than annoyance, but he pushed the thought aside as he trudged in at Thalia’s beckoning. Treading slowly, his eyes drank in the details of the home. It wasn’t commercial-level clean, which didn’t bother him. Though there was certainly a sense of scattered thought when it came to decoration. Or, perhaps they merely had better things to do than focus on a cohesive interior.

Flicking over the photos hanging on the wall, Maktov managed to convince himself he was only idly curious. He certainly wasn’t keeping an eye out for snapshots of romantic kisses, telltale anniversary photos, or anything else of the like. 

That would be utterly inappropriate.

Though she couldn’t follow his pupils, he seemed to size up everything as he stepped into her apartment. There was a precision to his steps that made Thalia bristle, just slightly, with preparedness. Her home was clean, if cluttered, and decently sized. It wasn’t a small starter apartment, by any means, but not extravagant. It certainly wasn’t a house. Though, she wouldn’t put it past his pickiness to make some critical remark.

Instead of a barbed comment, Maktov glanced to Thalia and nodded to the bag slung over his shoulder. “Where should I set up?” 

The set of her shoulders eased in the face of a reasonable question. She motioned toward the newly cleaned off kitchen table - to the left of the front door - where she had already set up her laptop and screen tablet. Without a comment, he began laying out his tools of the trade. 

From further in the apartment, Taryn’s footfalls closed in on them. Thalia sighed through her nose and made her way to her laptop, intent to get started. Quietly, she hoped her teenager took this moment to be tactful. For once.

As soon as Taryn popped through the entryway, Thalia’s stomach lurched with dread. They glanced at Maktov, a scrutinizing look in their eyes, before glancing at their mom. Their pleasant smile turned into a shit-eating grin, eyebrows waggling and eyes glittering with delight. Before Thalia could manage a patented ‘don’t you even’ look, Taryn had disrupted the silence, “So this is Mx. Toothy?” 

Maktov’s gaze snapped to Taryn, obviously taken by surprise. He flicked a glance at Thalia, eyes shifted to mimic a raised eyebrow. “I see my reputation precedes me.”

Thalia groaned, pressing her cold hand over her eyes as a flush clawed across her face. She had never wanted to sink into the floor more. All she could do was listen to the two as they carried on with niceties.

“I prefer Maktov,” he said, turning toward the teeanger. “He/him. And you?” 

The teen leaned against a wall, arms crossed and an appraising look in their eyes. Despite the cover of amusement, Maktov got the distinct impression the kid was weighing him up. “Taryn, they/them.” 

“You are certainly… bright,” was all Maktov could find to say. And, indeed, Taryn was a beacon of gaudy vivid color. Neon green hair, neon fingernail polish, neon accessories sprinkled along a black outfit, and shoes so bright they nearly glowed.

“Thank you,” Taryn preened, hand pressed to their chest. “I am highly intelligent and intuitive.”

Maktov inclined his head toward Thalia, mild amusement coloring his words. “I take it this is your child.” 

“Yes.” Thalia looked up from her slump against the table, face flushed. A pouty expression pursed at her lips, making Maktov’s shoulders tense and tingle. Two sides of him warred, briefly, over how soft her lips appeared versus how hypocritical it was of him to focus on such a thing, after their first spat.

A car honked twice outside, interrupting Maktov’s internal battle. Taryn started for the door, waving a hand casually behind themselves as they went. “Well, I’ll leave you kids to it. I got places to be!” 

“Wait!” Thalia jumped up, closing the distance between herself and Taryn. “Where are you going?”

Maktov tensed, watching the two. He’d seen familiar scenes play out between parents and children, ending in a blow-up.

“The mall, then check out that new superhero movie.” From Taryn’s half-smile and roll of their eyes, this wasn’t a new conversation. Holding up their phone, they showed its 100% battery life. “I’ll text you if plans change.”

“And who will you be with?” Thalia prompted.

“Cherie, Pheebs, and Reaux. Maybe a few others.”

She nodded, storing each name away for safekeeping until Taryn’s night out was over. “And what’s the code phrase if you’re afraid to let on you want to be picked up?” 

At this, the teenager stood straighter, voice taking on the tone of one reading a script. “Since you’re at the store, pick me up some Rocky Road.”

Thalia nodded, pleased. The code had been created precisely to make it seem as if she were just in the area of wherever Taryn and their friends hung out. Pressing a quick kiss to Taryn’s forehead, Thalia softly added, “Alright, text me if you’re going to be late. Be safe.”

At another honking prompt, Taryn took off, the front door closing shut behind them. For a second, Thalia sighed and stared at the closed door. Then, slowly, she turned to Maktov, realizing with mounting anxiety they were alone. When they agreed to meet up, she’d never considered this factor. Her heart shuddered, but she forced her feet to trod calmly bat to her seat, despite how his eyes followed her. 

When she had seated herself, she turned to him and pursed her lips. His attention reminded her of an overly alert cat, tracking a mouse across a yard. “What are you staring at?”

“I’m trying to figure out why you spoke to your kid about my teeth,” Maktov shot back. Beneath the bite of his words, there was a strange eagerness to see that pink flush nip across her cheeks.

And rewarded he was, as slight color dusted across Thalia’s face at his remark.

“Let’s just get to character design and story,” huffed Thalia as she pulled up a notebook and sketchbook with her ideas. “Now, I know you said you hated fairy tale stor-”

A sudden and loud groan left Maktov’s mouth, making Thalia jump. She never heard him above a conversational decibel. He threw his head back and covered his face with his hands, glasses propped atop his forehead. “We’re never going to get anywhere if you keep trying to revive dead ideas.”

“It’s not reviving! It’s refining!”

Her nearly instant retort made his lips twitch. He heaved a sigh, shifting to lean on the table. One hand remained over his mouth, elbow braced on the table, as his free hand re-positioned his glasses. “Fine, tell me your idea.” 

Thalia hated herself for watching him so closely, but there was something in the way he moved - in the way the aura of darkness around him shifted - that taunted her. A languid precision to every action. He didn’t seem to bristle, this time, but his hand covering his mouth raised concerns. The only answer she could come up with was self-consciousness on his part. 

“By the way, I’m sorry.” Thalia’s eyes fell to her notebooks, fingers fiddling with a curled edge of paper. 

“What?”

“You’re covering your mouth.” Without looking up, she motioned to his face, where his hand clasped against his lips. Faint snatches of the other day, of his irritation, pricked through her thoughts. This was a late apology, she realized. It may amount to nothing, after their petulant texting up to this point. She continued, soft and penitent. “I’m sorry, if what I did the other day was a sore point.”

“Oh,” he blinked, but his hand remained over his lips. Against his palm, his lips curled into a teasing grin she couldn’t see. “No, I’m just making sure I don’t distract you further.”

Thalia’s attention snapped to his face, lips thinned and eyes narrowing. He was watching her intently and she got the distinct feeling he was teasing her. A flare of heat licked down her spine at that thought.

With a bit too much force, she flipped her notebook open, finger trailing along her notes as she distracted herself. “ _Anyway_ , let’s talk story…”


	3. Chapter 3

It was a little after ten when the front door opened again. Taryn entered and peered into the dining area, as if afraid what they might find there. As soon as their head popped into the entryway, Maktov and Thalia turned to them.

The two had gravitated to the same side of the table, their workstations side by side. Though, they sat a little away from their laptops, in front of a box of delivery pizza. A smaller box of breadsticks and a couple sodas cluttered the table, a ‘safe’ distance from the tech. Both adults gave off the air of fairly put-out cats, their agitation soothed by a grudging treat.

“Taryn!” Thalia shot up from the table, approaching her child. “Come, give us your opinion.”

“Alright…” Taryn shrugged, walking further into the dining room with an eyebrow raised.

“We’re trying to choose a design,” Thalia said as she motioned toward the two computers. A variety of sketches displayed on the monitors in two styles. “Which do you think is more engaging?”

“I don’t know why you’re asking them. This isn’t something we’re making for mass consumption,” sighed Maktov, still holding a half-eaten slice of pizza in one hand and a napkin in the other. With the onset of night, the shadows around him seemed larger and deeper. Though irritation mingled in the aura around him, making the shadows seem threadbare and scraggly.

Taryn ignored him and eyed the two options. The first appeared more fluid, with a style a bit lax on anatomy but emphasized with emotional expressions. A few examples of poses solidified their assumption. The other option felt more contained, with an emphasis on angles and small details and action lines. Dynamic and complicated. Taryn shrugged a shoulder, glancing from their mom to their guest. “Why not both?”

“Animating the two different styles will take too long,” Maktov groused after swallowing his bite of pizza. He swiped the napkin across his lips before rising and approaching the others. “Plus we want some form of cohesion.”

Taryn glanced at their mom as she sighed. Thalia stood, staring at the two styles, frustration furrowing her brow. “We’re still struggling with a story, so I figured if we could settle on a style, we could develop a story from there.” 

“I still don’t see why you can’t make it, like, two different worlds meeting. This is a short thing, right? So, put a line down the middle and animate the two halves with their respective style.” The teen took a seat, picking up a pencil as they scratched the idea onto a piece of paper, mimicking both styles the best they could. Between the two, they made a simple, thick line. “They bust through the barrier, spewing both worlds into each other. Which could upset these two. But, like, as they argue, the worlds around them mesh and something makes them realize their mess just… evolved into a new way of living.”

When they were done, Taryn pushed away from the table. Maktov and Thalia were quiet, both staring at Taryn’s sloppy doodles on the sketchbook. The teenager didn’t wait for their decision, however, and bid both goodnight through a yawn while heading to their bedroom.

After a moment’s thought, Thalia took a seat at her laptop, fingers flying over the keys. She quickly typed up an outline, vaguely tagging how long each mini scene should take. She didn’t even realize Maktov took a seat nearby, until she pushed away from the laptop to give her words a once over. 

“It could work,” Maktov admitted, after reading over what she wrote. “Or I could just be tired of debating what to do.” 

“Same,” Thalia sighed, her palms rubbing into her eyes. Though her headache from earlier in the evening had dissipated - thanks to getting a meal in her - her sight blurred from exhaustion. Just typing up the outline had been a chore, with her fingers feeling clumsy and heavy.

After a moment’s consideration, Maktov snorted, “The most we got done tonight was thanks to your kid’s suggestion.” 

“Yes, well, you’re pretty picky.”

“As if you’re not,” he returned.

Thalia scoffed. Maktov stared at her a second, in contemplation, before muttering something about taking care of his plate. She watched him move, picking up his plate - and surprisingly hers - to deposit them in the kitchen. 

She stared at the table, considering putting the pizza away in the fridge when her phone chimed. Thalia plucked it from the table, unlocking it and tapping her e-mail. Nothing of immediate consequence, she thumbed to a different app out of habit.

A smile slowly curled across her lips as a compilation of funny animal moments auto-played on her dash. 

“What are you grinning at?” Maktov asked as he re-entered from her kitchen. 

“Animal videos.”

“Should’ve guessed.” Maktov’s words weren’t quite scornful, as he skirted around the table, taking up his seat beside her again. She could feel his gaze peek over her shoulder as the video continued. 

It was his soft puff of laughter that made her turn, childishly commenting, “Ooh, was that a laugh?”

Thalia wished she hadn’t turned. Almost instantly, her gaze flicked to his half-cocked grin, where his teeth glinted against his shadowy features. Heat skipped across her cheeks. Then, she realized how close they were. He hovered near her, hunched close to see the video. Her turning to address him brought her closer to him than she’d ever been. 

The shadows around him seemed to still and pull in close to him as he stared down at Thalia. His own attention fell to her lips, watching her smug smile fade to slightly parted lips as she stared. He could feel her gaze trailing over his teeth, his mouth, making prickles of heat coast over his body. Not that he was much better, staring at her lips, before both flicked gazes to each other’s eyes.

The video continued on in the background.

For a second, Maktov considered leaning forward. Feel her lips skirt over his. Imagining the sounds she would make. He cleared his throat and leaned back, before his body could move without his input. “I should get my things together and head home.”

“Oh, right.” Thalia replied, softly. It made sense. They were both too tired to continue working, so he should be eager to leave. Honestly, he should have left a long time ago, she realized. 

Maktov moved to gather up his equipment, unplugging the wires and carefully putting things into his bag. Muscles tightened along his back and arms, trying to stave off his own confusing feelings. He knew college held an assortment of exciting hormonal interactions for fresh faces, but he was well into adulthood. 

Awkward tension hung heavy in the air. The moments dragged out as he fastidiously wrapped his wires and arranged his notebooks. Thalia tried to ignore the heaviness as she tapped and scrolled along social media. She wasn’t paying attention to anything on the screen, though.

Finally, he stood straight, his bag hoisted to his shoulder. “How about we each storyboard our respective halves, up until the barrier gets broken? It should take me a few days for mine.”

Thalia nodded, mentally picking out times she could work on her segment of work. “Okay, once that’s done, we can meet up again.”

“Alright.” He shifted the bag on his shoulder, edging toward the front door. Thalia got to her feet, leading the way back to the door.

The awkward tension weighed heavier in the air. Thalia couldn’t shake the feeling he didn’t quite want to leave, either. She shook the feeling away, chalking it up to inexplicable wishful thinking. It was nice to have another adult in the house, after all. It was nothing more than enjoyment of a peer’s company, even if that company annoyed her.

At the front door, she tried to rebound from her sense of disappointment, over-correcting as she jarringly laughed. “Stay much longer and you might have to sleep over.”

Maktov inclined his head to her and, not for the first time, she agonized over the impassivity of his features. There were moments she thought she figured him out. The shift of the shadowy aura, his body language, the way his eyes changed shape. In this moment, he gave her nothing but a subtly cocked head and shadows.

He probably thought her an awkward fool.

“Well,” he said, slowly opening the door. “Good night.”

When the door securely shut behind him, Thalia turned and pressed her back against it. Pressing her face into her hands, she groaned between her fingers. “Oh my gods, why did I say that?” 

On the other side of her door, Maktov hadn’t gotten far. He inclined his head, faintly hearing Thalia give a telltale groan of embarrassment. Though he fought it, a smile tilted at his lips. He couldn’t stop his shoulders shaking with a quiet chuckle as he stepped into the night.


	4. Chapter 4

_I need you._

Blearily, Maktov stared at those three little words Thalia had texted him. When they finally registered, his heart hitched. His sleep-addled brain entertained a microsecond of fantasy, until reality sunk in and he muttered to himself, “Stop that.”

Groping for his glasses, he slid them on and leered at the little screen. The words hadn’t changed.

Sighing, he propped himself up in his bed, typing a return text: “What do you ‘need’ me for?”

A few moments later, a reply came.

“I was working on my animations to get them ready for tomorrow. Something happened. My program isn’t working. I don’t know what to do!”

Maktov groaned, pressing his head back into his pillow. This animation assignment was going to be the death of him. He’d only gone college, so he could either get a raise or get a better paying job. Not that he needed the degree, given his experience and skill, but it looked good and incessantly opened doors. And he needed all the help he could get. Not many wanted to hire a demon, let alone a shadow demon. 

However, this assignment had chewed a fair amount of time out of his schedule. His routine was screwed. Going to bed too late, dragging his ass out in the morning with cricks and pains and lactic acid buildup. Or whatever it was that made him feel so godsdamn awful in the morning. And it wasn’t as if he could just plop into bed at a decent time when he had work or homework to get done.

Luckily, his job was lenient when it came to when he worked on his assignments. Just as long as he logged them.

But now Thalia’s computer might’ve destroyed her part of the project?

A small part of him seethed with paranoia. She probably didn’t even do it. She probably thought if some big “mishap” happened, he’d take over the reins or something. 

Maktov shook the thought away, knowing - logically - that wasn’t true. Thalia, her attitude and awkwardness aside, seemed hard-working. What single mother wasn’t?

Glancing at the time, Maktov stifled another groan. Eight in the morning. Fuck, he had missed a class. He had laid down around one, thinking he’d get a few hours sleep. He must’ve slept through his alarm. Gods, being old sucked. 

Pushing himself up in bed, he replied to Thalia, saying he’d be there soon to see what he could do. Tilting his glasses to his forehead - avoiding the headache he’d get from using his dark vision with them - he maneuvered around his pitch-black bedroom with ease, getting dressed.

Shoving the phone into his jean pocket, he ventured further into the rest of his less-dark-than-pitch apartment. Light snuck in the living room, squeezing around the curtains tightly shut and casting thin lines of illumination across the floor. Once he gathered his equipment, found his wallet, and located his keys, Maktov opened the door. A semi-lit - and highly graffitied - breezeway greeted him, beyond which the sun blazed. He winced into the light, wrinkling his nose. A brief consideration of not going to Thalia’s shot through his head, before ‘I need you’ danced across his thoughts.

Sighing at himself, Maktov stepped out and locked his door behind him.

—

Almost as soon as Maktov entered the home, Thalia was babbling. 

“I was working on it this morning, after Taryn went to school. I got up to get some more coffee and when I came back, it had crashed. I thought it was on a screensaver, but it didn’t come back on.” Thalia ran a hand through her hair, fingers crooked and digging slightly into her scalp. Her eyes burned with unfallen, stressed-out tears. “I was so into what I was doing, I don’t even know if I saved before this.”

Maktov nodded and listened. He’d had problems like this in the past that drove home his frequent saving habit. Computers weren’t his specialty, but he was known to get lucky with his patented ‘fiddle with it until something reacts’ move. Gently, he placed his bag on the kitchen table next to her computer and tablet. Sitting down, he tapped the touch pad. Nothing. He fiddled with the wires, the power cable, the connection between the tablet to the laptop. Nothing.

“I’m so sorry. I know you were concerned with having to help me and do your part, but I don’t even know if my computer entirely died or-” Thalia’s words cut off as she turned away abruptly, blinking hard. Tension warbled in her stomach, taut and unhappy. 

Behind her, Maktov sighed. It was like a knife to her gut and she flinched. 

“Just calm down. If you lost your work, I’ll help. Can’t control when a computer glitches.” You could control when you saved your work, he sourly added to himself. Now wasn’t the time, though. Even he could tell Thalia was in no shape to be criticized. “I’m going to hardboot it.” 

“Okay,” was her small reply. He glanced at her, concern pinched at his face, but didn’t say anything.

Maktov pressed the power button until the laptop flickered on. He sat back as it hummed to life, going through the process of waking up.

At the sound, Thalia turned, eyes on the screen. She prayed to any gods listening for her work to still be there, that her last few days of work hadn’t been for nothing. Maktov moved as she typed in her password and went to her program. He leaned over her shoulder, his hand braced on the back of the chair. His proximity sent clashing, confusing sensations through Thalia’s body.

After a moment, the file she was working on popped up, with a gratifying [Restore] behind the title.

“Oh gods,” she gasped, finally remembering to breathe. After quickly saving and then looking over her work, Thalia let out a sigh. “Most of my work is there. Like eighty percent.” 

Maktov nodded, but neither stepped away nor let go of her chair. She felt his breath barely grace her cheek as he asked, “Will you still need help?”

“No, no, I don’t think so.” Thalia shook her head, feeling both relieved and extraordinarily ashamed. She had no clue why such terror clenched at her so quick nor why she texted him in a panic. Her heart still thrummed with fright in her chest, despite the sudden tiredness at her limbs. “Thank you for this. I suppose I must seem ridiculous.”

“It’s not like I did much.” He released the back of her chair, taking a step back. Thalia risked a glance at him, watching as he stretched from his stooped position, arms over head. He groaned as some gratifying pops echoed along his spine. “Let’s go get something to eat.” 

“Don’t you need to get to work or something?” She’d been certain, if he answered her text, he’d have to rush off to wherever he worked or to a class soon after. He just seemed the type. But he was the first person she thought to contact and thoughtlessly took that risk.

“Day off.” She didn’t need to know he missed his class earlier. 

Those two words made Thalia ease, just a little. 

Maktov had gone to his bag, riffling through the contents to withdraw his wallet and cellphone. “I think we both need a breather. Unless you feel up to facing your big, bad computer again.”

Thalia glared at him and his infuriating smirk, her lips puckered into a displeased pout. Her gaze flickered to her computer, giving it a double dose of glare. What a traitor it was, giving Maktov another thing to hold over her head. 

He was making his way to the front door when he added, “You can treat me to breakfast, as a thank you.” 

“I already thanked you!” Annoyance flitted through her words as she got to her feet. She shoved her feet into a pair of sneakers by the front door and snatched her purse from the floor. Though she’d already eaten with Taryn, there was a semi-hidden eagerness to spend time with Maktov. Time without the tethers of their project.

Maktov’s grin crooked across his lips as he watched her lock up, part of him relieved she hadn’t said no to going out for breakfast with him. Peering at the complex’s parking lot, he thumbed toward the lined up cars, “You happen to have a car?” 

Genuine surprise crossed Thalia’s face as she looked up at him. “You don’t?” 

“Don’t need one,” he replied, doing his best to keep his face indifferent. He could nearly see her curiosity bubble through her thoughts. Her attention warmed something deep inside him. Delight, maybe? Or amusement? Maktov didn’t know, but it felt nice.

Thalia arched an eyebrow at him, expecting more from him.

His smile broadened in return, but he gave her no more answers on the topic. “So, you got a car or are we taking the bus?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: past domestic abuse discussions  
> tw: past child sex abuse implications

“Why were you so afraid I’d be angry?” Maktov finally asked, after they’d gotten their orders. Around them, the diner bustled with life and aromas. Groups of seniors hunched over their breakfast platters, cups of coffee standing sentry. Waitstaff bustled in and out of the kitchen, balancing plates heaped high with pancakes or omelettes or other breakfast food. Little kids, too young to begin school, squealed over crayons that were more wax than color. The scent of syrup and coffee and something that was explicitly ‘diner’ hung in the air.

The chaos of the setting bled away for Thalia, as she swallowed and glanced at Maktov. He hadn’t looked up from his pancakes, which he buttered with precise movements, covering every inch. She watched his hands as they worked, eyes tracing his fingers and the blurry shade around him. Only his soft, pointed cough tore her attention away.

“It’s…” Thalia sighed, her fingers clasped at her napkin, fiddling at the fabric. She bit her bottom lip, wondering what was too much to tell him. He was a peer, a classmate, not a friend she could unload her internal baggage on. 

“It’s what?” Maktov pressed, gently. He watched her carefully. Her fingers flexed and tangled in the napkin, her shoulders hunched the longer she struggled to answer. Maybe he shouldn’t have pressed.

Even at the softness of his voice, Thalia couldn’t bring her eyes to his face. Why should it matter if he was a friend or a classmate? He asked, why not answer? 

“Taryn’s father wasn’t a nice guy,” she sighed, picking up a fork and knife to cut her own pancakes. She sliced her food up erratically, not in the equal squares Maktov managed. Even that irked her, a little. Why couldn’t she be so skilled?

“Did he hurt you?” Even to Maktov, his voice sounded far away from him. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if the answer was ‘yes.’ It wasn’t like the man was still around, as far as it seemed.

“He didn’t hit me,” Thalia sighed, knowing physical battering was usually the first thought. The things that man did to her still hurt, deep in her chest. She ignored the throb in her chest by grabbing the strawberry syrup and focusing on the semi-opaque liquid as it smeared over her food. “He did a lot of other shit, though. Accuse me of cheating if I went out with friends. Get mad when things went wrong and he’d yell or insult me. He’d hurt himself during fights, calling himself stupid and punching himself, or threaten to stop paying bills since he had a full-time job while I went to college. I walked on eggshells around him and tried to predict what would set him off, so I could avoid it.” 

The words hung in the air, vibrating through his ears. The syrup suddenly felt too sweet, too thick on his tongue. Thalia still refused to look up at him as she began eating her food. She moved slow, though, as if she wasn’t really hungry. All he could think to say was a paltry, “I see.” 

“He’s been gone for awhile and I got therapy.” Thalia gave a half-shrug, as if all of this wasn’t a big deal. As if there wasn’t a pain in her chest or some residual anxiety pumping through her veins. “He went to prison for some really bad shit and never contacted us again. Not that I’d let him near Taryn after what he ended up doing.”

Maktov inclined his head, eyes narrowing. Something unspoken hung heavy in the air. The ambient noise of the diner filled the silence between them. No one seemed to notice the heavy atmosphere around the two.

“Did his crime have to do with kids?” 

Finally, Thalia looked up at him and her stormy expression confirmed his thought. His stomach clenched with a concoction of anger and disgust. Under it all, there was a twinge of pity for Thalia. Her eyes, red-rimmed from tears she tried to hold back, went back to her plate.

Again, he couldn’t think of anything worthwhile to say. She probably heard it all before. His lips bunched up to one side of his mouth as he considered their past interactions. Had he done something to make her feel he was like that man? ”I’m sorry if I’ve seemed… unduly harsh.”

Thalia hummed in reply, neither a thanks or a reprimand. Just a sound in response to him. “You obviously have experiences I can’t begin to understand. It is what it is.”

“I suppose so,” Maktov replied, eyes still on Thalia. He slowly went back to his food, chewing thoughtfully as he considered their respective situations.

They returned to their meal, neither saying anything else. The quiet was filled with diner chatter, the clack of utensils and plates, the loud slam of the restroom doors as people went in and out. But neither heard it over the sounds of their own thoughts.

—

They didn’t go back to her house right away. Instead, at Maktov’s request, Thalia drove them out to the nearby beach. The sun seared from its spot at high noon, baking the sands as the waves lapped at the beach. Gulls called overhead, swooping to the beach to peck at fast food litter.

The two walked in silence for a time, sand crunching under their shoes and a breeze caressing their faces. Only small talk had passed between them, since the heavy topics unfurled at the diner. Thalia wondered if she made things awkward between them. Wouldn’t have been the first time she opened up to someone, just for them to shut down. 

She chewed at the inside of her cheek, frustration with herself swelling. Why’d she have to tell him? There were plenty of reasons for her to be emotional and worried about making him mad.

“Ah, here we are.” Maktov’s voice pulled Thalia from her swirl of inner thought. He jogged through the sand, the tattoo of crunching sand almost melodical, to his apparent destination.

A huge boardwalk pier bisected the beach. On top, a world of vendors, restaurants, and even small carnival rides populated the boards. Even for a weekday, it bustled with bodies. Gulls congregated near the far edges, where the support poles stood in the water, eating fries graciously thrown to them. Occasionally, a fish would surface, snarfing down a wayward fry lost by a bird.

Maktov didn’t make for the stairs that led up, however. He made a beeline for the shadowy under-pier. Curious, Thalia followed him, somewhat concerned about falling debris but too intrigued to stop.

As her eyes adjusted, she realized she didn’t have to worry about suddenly wearing fried dough. Huge tarps expanded along the width of the pier, catching garbage and fallen food. What surprised her further was the archway where the pier met the land. The opening led to what looked like a darkened shopping center, dimly lit with strings of light and strange crystals glowed. The longer Thalia looked, the more her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

People thronged the small walkways, from store to store. Some sipped at treats, others were laden with bags. An assortment of stores squatted here, beneath the busy street overhead: grocery, convenience, clothing, magic, book, seemingly specialty boutiques.

“What’s this?” Thalia’s eyes widened, stepping closer to the underground market.

“A shopping plaza for people more inclined to the dark,” Maktov answered, a bit of amusement in his voice. He shoved his glasses up on his head as he walked further in.

Thalia dallied by the threshold, still standing in the shadowed sands beneath the pier. “Is it okay for me to be here?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Maktov stopped, turning to look at her. His shoulders tensed, bracing for disappointment. Bracing to hear her wonder if it was safe for her or listen to some secondhand horror story she’d heard, from a friend of a friend, about any number of nocturnal people. 

“I don’t want to intrude into a safe space meant for others.” Thalia had seen Taryn’s frustration enough times when someone infringed on non-binary or LGBT+ spaces. She’d learned to be careful, just tromping into somewhere new and fascinating.

“You’re not intruding.” Maktov’s lips twitched with a relieved smile. At least her concerns weren’t rooted in biased thinking. Extending his hand to her, he added reassuringly, “I’m inviting you.”

She stared at his proffered hand, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. It’d be a lie to say she didn’t want to explore the area. Especially with him. But she couldn’t shake the worries. Was he taking pity on her? Was he just dragging her along to errands he had planned to do? Did he even want her there?

With effort, she shoved her concerns to the back of her head and took his hand. As his fingers clasped around her palm, and he led her further into the dark, Thalia couldn’t still the excited thrumming of her heart. 


	6. Chapter 6

In the shadowy market, coolness kissed Thalia’s skin after her heated trek in the sun. Despite the slight chill, Maktov’s hand around hers was warm and gentle. He led her into the dark, commenting on potential hazards - a dark-colored trash can she hadn’t spotted, a loose cobblestone, a step up or a step down - to avoid.

It wasn’t until they had passed three stores she felt the eyes on her. Curious eyes, watching her. She’d glance up, finding people quickly looking away.

“Hey,” she said softly, squeezing Maktov’s hand. He glanced down at her, his white eyes shining in the dark. “Are you certain it’s ok for me to be here?” 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” He stopped, turning to address her.

“I just feel like people are staring.” 

He blinked owlishly down at her, before looking around. Frankly, she probably couldn’t spot half the people shopping today. Many of them blended in with the shadows. But, he supposed, she could feel the attention on her. It wasn’t usual for someone from an ancestry without dark vision to come here. Not unheard of, but uncommon. The fact he was leading her through the streets probably wasn’t helping.

“That might be my fault, actually,” he said, finally, after some consideration. “Shadow demons often form cloistered, secretive communities. Few of us venture into habitation with sun or bright lights.”

Thalia cocked her head, not quite following this explanation. Maktov sighed, rubbing the back of his head as he gathered his words. “Rumors abound about my people. About us all being cultish or using shadow walking to steal or assault people. Hiding ourselves away hasn’t helped our reputation.

“Historically, there’s evidence of our wrongdoings, but there’s nasty evidence against werewolves, vampires, bogeys, and every other ancestry out there, too.” Maktov shrugged, though now he could feel eyes and ears on him. The past was a painful subject for many ancestries, especially in the dark market. Maktov heaved another sigh, shoulders sagging just a little. “They’re concerned about you and wondering if I’m forcing you down here.”

“Oh,” she replied, but she refrained from looking around. She didn’t want to give the others a reason to keep staring, whether from concern or uncertainty. 

But, what could she do? Thalia chewed on the inside of her cheek, considering options. She was already holding his hand. That had to seem friendly enough, right?

“We can leave, if this is making you too uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s fine.” She released his hand, moving to wrap her arms around his, hugging it close. She’d seen plenty of people hug a peer close by their elbow. Though, usually, with a flirty smile curled at their lips. Maktov stiffened under the adjustment. If he wasn’t swathed in shadows, Thalia was certain she’d see him swallow awkwardly. Thalia grinned up at him, slightly vindicated after all the teeth teasing he put her through, as she pressed her cheek against his arm. “Was there a particular store you wanted to show me here or…?”

Maktov struggled to find an answer. He was struggling to answer a lot of things, really. Why did he want to go out to breakfast with her? What did he want to show her here? Why was the feeling of her arms, snaked around his, pressing him close to her chest, shatter his ability to think? 

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself. When he opened his eyes, Thalia was still staring up at him, waiting patiently for an answer. 

“There’s a bookstore here.” Even as he said it, Maktov felt it fell flat of expectations. He forced himself to not shift awkwardly.

If Thalia was disappointed, she didn’t show it. “Alright, lead the way.”

Brusquely, Maktov nodded and began to guide Thalia once more. He didn’t know if the stares stopped or if Thalia felt they did. Then again, it was hard to think with her so close, so warm, so soft against him. It took discipline just to remember to breathe.

Similar feelings fluttered through her. Whether the looks stopped had completely fled her mind. She just focused on Maktov. The muscles shifting under her arm, his body heat, the almost fuzzy sensation of the shadow aura around him grazing her. She had to admit, it felt strangely nice. Like something she had been missing for a long time.

And maybe it was. Intimate touch, even from platonic relations, wasn’t something she experienced much of, since her ex. Sure, there’d been a couple one-night stands over the years, when she was desperate and really aching, but it always made her so sad afterward.

“Here we are.” Maktov stopped, motioning toward the store with his free hand.

It looked like any other independent bookstore that Thalia had come across, except dimly lit with orbs of light hanging from the ceiling. To her, it looked closed, but she could see shadowy shapes browsing the tall shelves. Moved with curiosity, she untangled herself from Maktov’s arm and ventured in. The scent of old and new books curled around her as soon as she entered, but unable to make out the genre signs, Thalia simply wandered aimlessly. 

Maktov followed behind her, watching her manage slowly in the dark. A small part of him wanted her touch again, wanted her body pressed against him. Dutifully, he shoved the thought far away.

“Hey, Maktov?” 

“Yes?”

“I know you said shadow demons have pretty secretive communities, but is there any recommended reading material?” She glanced over her shoulder, knowing he lingered close. “You know, about culture or history?”

“That particular section is over there, ma’am.” A form solidified from the shadows, pale and red-eyed and sporting a cramped ‘Theodonious’ on a nametag. Thalia jumped, turning to stare wide-eyed at the employee who suddenly appeared. The employee, whether amused or good-humored, flashed pointed canines in a smile as they produced a small, gently glowing orb from a pocket. “And I believe a bit of light will help you, yes?”

“Oh, thank you!” Thalia took the orb and made her way to the books the employee indicated. As soon as she turned, the employee’s gaze flicked to Maktov, smile faltering as they melded back into shadows.

Maktov rolled his eyes at the employee, but trailed after Thalia as she gleaned over titles with a critical eye. At his approach, she looked up. “So, any suggestions?”

With the glow from the orb, Maktov slid his glasses back on and squinted at the available titles. It was true there was little information out there and a good chunk of it was written by people less than certified to write about his people. But, he also didn’t really make a habit about reading outsiders’ point of views. He’d grown up in an underground community, taught the culture and beliefs and religion for his particular community. Then he left it for a ‘more promising’ world. Though, like all groups, there were variations. The thought someone else might turn to him for guidance in appropriate reading material hadn’t ever occurred to him, though.

Maktov pulled a few books down, flipping them over to read the back. Usually, he’d shove the tome back with a snort, before moving onto another promising option. There weren’t tons of options for specifically shadow demons. Perhaps ten, at most.

“This one seems alright.” He held his choice out to Thalia, expecting her to simply glance through it for interesting tidbits. 

Adjusting her hold on the orb, she took the book from him and flipped it open. First, she looked over the table of contents, which Maktov had noticed didn’t simply lump all shadow demons into a singular culture. Then, she turned to the back, where the author’s photo - a shadowy figure sitting in a chair with the same sort of white eyes as Maktov, but a ‘fluffier’ looking shadow aura - and short biographical niblet resided. Finally, Thalia flipped through the book, pausing to take a look at photos and captions.

“Alright,” Thalia finally said, holding the book to her chest. “Anything you were planning to buy?” 

“Wait, you’re actually buying that?” 

“Yes…?” 

“Why?” A sudden flare of heat licked up him. It felt like she was looking through embarrassing baby photos of him, for some indescribable reason.

Tilting her head to the side, a slightly confused smile tilted at her lips. “Why do you think I wanted your opinion on a book about shadow demons?”

“I don’t know.” Maktov couldn’t help hunching his shoulders, suddenly feeling a bit nonsensical. What would he be afraid of her finding out? She wasn’t the sort to make fun of him or to use his weaknesses against him. But still, concern itched at his stomach. “Blackmail?”

Thalia laughed, shaking her head. A different type of heat crawled up Maktov’s spine. “I’d like to understand you better, Maktov. Everything in this book might not apply to you, but maybe something will. You did choose it.”

He could’ve argued. Could’ve poked holes in her reasoning. But, Maktov couldn’t find the words. Staring down at her, with a smug smile and the book held close to her chest, sent a flurry of confusing feelings and thoughts through him. Instead, he stiffly turned away and headed toward another section.

She watched him, an array of thoughts twitching along his shadow face. Too bad she couldn’t make out the subtle shifts in this lighting. As he abruptly turned, Thalia had her bit her lip to keep her grin from growing. Had she flustered him? That was probably just wishful thinking on her part. It still amused her as she trailed after him, holding the small orb aloft and keeping an eye on any titles that drew her attention.


	7. Chapter 7

They had spent a fair amount of time in the bookstore, Maktov not buying a single thing whereas Thalia selected two more items; both novels, one for Taryn and one for herself. Browsing a couple more stores aroused no other purchases. Around two in the afternoon, they found themselves back under the pier.

Dallying between the pier’s support legs, Maktov and Thalia made their way closer to the water. Barnacles and green plants coated portions of the wood, memories of a higher tide. She took a seat in the sand, legs crossed and back to a support structure. Even through her jeans, the sands felt cold. Leaning against one of the thick wood poles himself, Maktov didn’t sit but watched her.

She’d taken out the blasted book he suggested, idly flipping through the pages. He looked out over the water, trying to distract himself. Overhead, the sky was a brilliant blue and speckled with an odd cloud or two. The sun gleamed off all the waves, making it hard for him to stare long. Gulls cried overhead and fish occasionally breached the water for a treat on the surface.

A gentle breeze had begun blowing in, spraying the two with flecks of water when Maktov sighed, “I don’t usually come here during the day.”

“Yeah?” Thalia inclined her head up toward him, marking something of interest with her receipt before closing her book. “Is it nicer at night?” 

Maktov shrugged one shoulder. His mind overlaid the familiar nighttime scene. Dark sky and dark waters, sometimes frothing white and sometimes deathly serene. The lights of the over-pier pushing through the tarp, casting odd hues into the night rather than illumination. The bird cries replaced with loud music overhead and bustling crowds. 

“It’s just more familiar at night.” And that’s really all it was. Neither time was worse or better. Though, at night, the place was a bit livelier with shadowfolk. There was more to do and, occasionally, a bazaar out beneath the pier.

“Maybe you should bring me at night, sometime.” Thalia couldn’t keep from smiling, cheekily. It was a suggestive, but innocent, thing to say. They were just classmates, doing a project together, and probably would never speak again when they got their final grade. But if that were true, where should the line be drawn? At getting meals together? Going shopping? It seemed, to her, this was edging into a friendlier territory than simply peers working together.

Her words made him turn to look at her. She wasn’t looking at him anymore. Instead, her gaze turned toward the horizon, eyes half-lidded almost sleepily. Still, a smile tilted at her lips. Maktov stared at her, trying to discern if she was truly interested in returning here with him or simply being polite.

It had to be the latter, surely. Maktov’s heart hitched a little as even his logical side bristled. Was she just “being polite” when she grabbed his arm in the market or when she bought a book to learn about his people? Had she just been humoring his questions about her fears at the diner?

No, she was comfortable with him in a way he wasn’t familiar with. He’d kept others at an arm’s length, easily, for a long time. Too many friendships, too many relationships, ended with pain when he first ventured out from under the mountain. It had been safer to be distant and, eventually, it became a comfortable norm. Occasionally, he’d wonder if he should get a social life; go to a club, put himself out there, find something to bond with others. 

And he never had. No time, no energy, no desire to. Or so he convinced himself.

Then he ended up in this art class with this lady that always stared at him. But it was easy to ignore her and, in a way, it was nice to know one person paid attention when he spoke in class. When they’d been put into the same group, his stomach lurched. Maybe part of him was overly-prepared to find out her reasons for staring caused him pain.

“We should probably get back to my place,” Thalia interrupted his thoughts as she shifted from her spot on the sand, placing the book in her bag. “I like to be home when Taryn gets off of school.”

He made a non-committal sound, holding out his hand out to her, wordlessly offering to help her to her feet. A quick smile of appreciation from her and her hand clasping his sent a tingle through his body. Without much thought, Maktov heard himself asking, “Want to know something, Thalia?”

“What?” 

She gasped as Maktov hauled her easily to her feet, then crushed her against him. One hand clasped to the back of her neck, the other to the small of her back. Her hands braced against his chest and she thought she could feel his heart fluttering erratically under her palm. Maktov bent close, lips grazing her ear and his shadow aura brushed against her cheek, soft like down. Her eyes clenched shut, her own heart shuddering as the heat of his body and the barely there caress of his aura.

“You’re making me want to show you what’s beneath my shadows,” he spoke, low and breathless, as if it was a struggle to say those words. The words became more difficult as he realized she didn’t push away and merely remained still against him, her hands creating a burning sensation at his chest. “And, honestly, that terrifies me.”

Thalia didn’t have time to think before Maktov released her. He began walking away, quickly, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched. She blinked, suddenly feeling very warm and slightly disoriented. Taking off after him, Thalia slowly considered what his words meant. 

It sounded like a confession, but she couldn’t decide what kind. Chewing on her bottom lip, she glanced up at his dark form. Under the sun, his shadows pulled tight to his body. Not for the first time, she wondered about his corporeal body beneath the sheet of dark.

Judging from his sudden silence, and refusal to look her way, Thalia decided not to push the topic. He’d sounded vulnerable and she knew how raw that could leave a person. Before stepping off the beach, Thalia threw one look to the waterscape. A smile curled at the corners of her lips, considering what it did look like in the dark, before turning to follow Maktov.

—

When they finally returned to Thalia’s house, Taryn had seated themselves at the table. A cloud of seriousness hung about them as they cocked an eyebrow and asked, as soon as the door opened, “And where have you been little lady? Out with a boy?” 

“Oh, however did you know that, child of mine?” Thalia retorted, an amused smile on her lips as she placed her books on the dining room able. Behind her, Maktov shuffled in, shoulders not quite as hunched as when he left the beach. The heat that had seared up his body had died down during the drive.

“I saw Mr. Toothy’s stuff.” Taryn nodded to the abandoned laptop and screen tablet. “So, when’d he get here?”

“I had computer troubles after you left,” explained Thalia, already feeling a flush burn at her ears as Taryn cocked an eyebrow. “I texted him and, since it was his day off, he came to help me.”

Taryn was all skeptical eyebrows and smirks. “And that help included going out shopping?”

Maktov turned to his equipment. He didn’t need to participate in this conversation between mother and child. As he pulled out his laptop and tablet, he noticed something missing. “Shit,”

“What?” Both Taryn and Thalia turned to him, their playful conversation interrupted by his curse. 

“I forgot the HDMI cable for my tablet.” Maktov ran a hand through his hair, sighing heavily. Though he felt fine earlier, now the day’s events came back to sap him of energy. “I’ll head back to my place to get it, so we can get started.”

“Oh, you’re staying?”

“I thought we were going to work on the project.” Maktov shifted, suddenly feeling like a presumptive ass. They’d already spent most of the day together. Besides, Thalia had responsibilities as a mother, didn’t she? He was probably in the way. But, they still needed to work on the project. “Am I mistaken?”

“Oh, no, that’s fine!” Thalia laughed awkwardly, fiddling with her hair. Behind her, Taryn rolled their eyes. “I just thought you’d want a break from me.”

Relieved, Maktov shrugged his shoulders. “We have to make up for lost time, don’t we?”

“Yes,” Thalia gave him a look, as if there was a level of innuendo to her words. “I suppose you’re right.”

Within moments, Maktov made his way back outside again. He took a deep breath as a flurry of thoughts swarmed him. Now that he was away from Thalia, he could feel his body heat cool. While he sought a suitable shade to shadow walk through, he turned over the situation and his recent actions in his head.

—

It had been about twenty minutes since Maktov left. Thalia had muddled about in the kitchen, considering what they had for dinner. She pored over potential ingredients, trying to factor in how much Maktov might eat. It wasn’t even five, yet, so there was still time to decide. Hopefully, he’d come back soon, so she could ask what he’d like. It wouldn’t hurt to have some ideas, though.

“So, are you and Mr. Toothy dating?”

Taryn’s voice behind Thalia made her jump, making her crack her head on the refrigerator roof. Ruefully rubbing at the point of impact, Thalia pulled out of the fridge and closed the door. “What makes you say that?” 

Turning to address her child, Thalia cocked her head to the side. Taryn stood a few feet away in the small kitchen, hip leaned against a cabinet. Arms crossed and a slight crease between their brows, she wondered if Taryn had concerns.

“I don’t know. You seem to like him.” They shrugged, trying a little too hard to give off a nonchalant air. “And you two hung out today. Alone.”

“We were alone last time, too.” Thalia smiled, stepping closer to Taryn. “You went to see a movie, remember?” 

“Yeah, but you two were much more…” Taryn waved a hand, searching for the right word, “Snipey with each other.”

That was true. They were a bit antagonistic with each other. Teenagers could have gone either way, though. Either they held lifelong grudges or the transgression was forgiven in a few days. Of course, Taryn wouldn’t see it like that. “We got off to a rough start. It happens.”

Judging from Taryn’s frown, there was a level of uncertainty in their thoughts. They worried at the inside of their cheek, eyes shifting away in thought.

Coming up to Taryn, Thalia put her hands on their shoulders and gently asked, “Is something wrong?”

Their shoulders and face scrunched, unable to look at their mom. A flush of embarrassment colored their cheeks as they stumbled over their words. “I want you to be happy and get out more, but you’re my mom and…” 

“And thinking of me dating someone upsets you?” Thalia grinned. It had been just the two of them for a long time, so Taryn’s possessiveness seemed on point. It was certainly a bit of relief, after having them nearly push her out the door for her first day of college classes.

“Upset might be too strong a word,” returned Taryn, sticking their tongue out.

Shaking her head, Thalia patted Taryn’s shoulders, before stepping away. She moved toward a cabinet, taking inventory on their pasta ingredients. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, between Maktov and I.”

She did her best to keep a tinge of sadness from her voice. Inside, unhappiness still clenched at her stomach with a slimy chill. 

No matter how good she was at hiding her feelings, Taryn still perked in curiosity. “What do you mean?” 

“We have a project to do together. That’s it.” A neutral laugh fell from her lips. She dallied at the cabinet longer than necessary, unable to face Taryn. “I don’t know if he’ll still want to hang out after we get our grade.” 

He might just be making the best of a tedious situation. That’s what being an adult meant, sometimes. Power through, until the end, then return to your normalcy. It was depressing, but that’s what Thalia was used to. There was no point in thinking they were anything more than temporary acquaintances. No matter how much they might’ve opened up today.

The doorbell ringing cut through her internal nihilism. Thalia closed the cabinet, heading for the door as she said aloud, “He must be back.”

When Thalia opened the door and laid eyes on Maktov, her heart jumped to her throat.

The shadows crackled around him. Dark wisps whipped into a frenzy, terrified and erratic. It wasn’t the unusual appearance of the aura, though, that made Thalia gasp.

It was the blood.


	8. Chapter 8

It was the blood. 

Dripping from his temple, oozing between his fingers, staining his torn clothes. Red. So much red. Almost instantly, adrenaline snapped through her. She turned, yelling back into the apartment, “Taryn, get a hot towel and the first aid kit!”

The teenager briefly came out, a confused question poised on their lips. When they realized the state Maktov was in, they sprinted for the bathroom, doing as their mom ordered.

“What happened, Maktov?” Thalia spun back around to him, taking a step closer to him.

He winced, from the decibel of her words and the lights pulsing down on him. Everything hurt and his vision swam. Too much illumination, too much noise, too much…

He shook his head and held up a trembling hand, trying to focus. Thalia stopped, concern emanating from her like an aura all her own. Against gritted teeth, he hissed, “Need dark.”

“My room, at the end of the hall.” Thalia answered, almost immediate. She started for him, ready to help him stagger to her room. He shook his head, holding a hand up again as she stopped, yet again. He took a step forward, his foot stepping into the shadow she cast. He disappeared, swallowed up in shade.

The sound of squeaking springs echoed out from her bedroom. She turned, running to her door and flipping the light on. 

Maktov yelped, the sudden brightness a shock.

“Sorry!” Thalia shut the light off, fumbling for her phone. Adjusting the brightness settings to low, yet useful, she approached him.

He laid on her bed on his uninjured side with his hand pressed tight to his wound. His chest rose and fell with labored breaths. Every so often, he’d hiss a little louder in pain and curl in on himself, as if pressure could make the pain go away.

“I don’t know if a first aid kit will be enough, mom.” Taryn’s worried words echoed in from the doorway. Their eyes flicked to his form on the bed as they fidgeted with the towels and the kit in their hands. “We should call an ambulance.”

“No,” Maktov hissed, teeth clenched. “Hospitals. Too bright.”

As her eyes adjusted, Thalia realized something. Little streams of light flickered beneath Maktov’s dark surface, like tiny fish darting around his body. She took a step closer to him, eyes widening as her stomach sank further. What was this? Every time the light flashed within him, he’d grunt and shift in pain.

“I need a witch.” In the dark of Thalia’s bedroom, Maktov could think again. The pain still throbbed through him and his side, where he’d been stabbed, hurt like hell. Though he knew he’d gotten knocked good against his head, he couldn’t feel the throb of pain there. Which may or may not have been a bad thing.

In the silence that followed, as Thalia wondered how to get hold of a witch, Taryn mumbled, “Cherie’s aunt is a witch.” 

And just like that, a plan slotted into place in Thalia’s mind. Turning to take the first aid kit and towels from Taryn, she instructed, “Call him. Tell him what we know and have him get his aunt.” 

Taryn’s eyes flickered from Maktov’s form to their mom, uncertainty paling their face. Thalia flashed a comforting, if strained, smile at Taryn, before gently motioning them out of the room. When she could hear Taryn’s call begin, Thalia turned back to Maktov.

Steeling herself, she approached the bed and fumbled her phone - her only source of illumination - to her bedside table. In her mind, she had a list: evaluate the injuries, clean him up the best she could, tend to what she could, wait for help.

Maktov swallowed as she neared, but pried his fingers from his bleeding side. Copper acridity flooded the air, making Thalia’s stomach hurt. She forced herself to focus and gently sop up the blood with the warm, wet towel.

As red stained more and more of the towel, Thalia began to worry her efforts might not be enough for him.

—

Magnolia ‘Mag’ Cross was not what Thalia expected of a witch. Though, she supposed, that was entirely her fault for having preconceived notions.

Six foot tall and muscular, with her short platinum blonde hair shaved on one side, Mag seemed like a warrior than a magic user. The scars - a long one that curved from cheek to jawline and many peppering her arms - just added to the ‘wartorn warrior’ vibe. Shrewd pale green eyes flicked over her surroundings as Cherie, a gangly boy with pitch black eyes and a rich red tone to his dark skin, went to Taryn. The teens wandered a bit farther into the living room, discussing the situation in hushed tones.

Thalia led Mag to her room, explaining what she knew. She had managed to get a little more information from Maktov, while waiting the fifteen minutes for the witch to arrive.

When he left, he’d been seeking out a suitable place to shadow walk from. Something happened and a group of people jumped him, roughing him up. They had obviously stabbed him at some point, but he didn’t know what they used. Thalia still had no idea how he got away or where they struck him from. If he was home when it happened or still on the street or returning to her place. But all that seemed unnecessary, given his state.

Mag nodded and listened, quiet and stern, as she adjusted her hold on a large duffel bag. She didn’t seem surprised, at all. It seemed as if this wasn’t a new experience for her.

After a terse introduction to Maktov, Mag went about lighting candles at the far edges of the room. Far enough, the illumination wouldn’t bother him, but close enough to see by. When finished, she approached the bed and surveyed the ailing shadow demon. Every so often, a light flared beneath his surface and he’d hiss or groan.

“Well, this is new,” Mag stated as she dropped her duffel bag beside him. Whatever was in it made the bedsprings squeal under its weight. She waved a hand over him, fingers twitching as if she were feeling something out. Turning to her bag, she began withdrawing an array of bottles and placing them on the bedside table. “They poisoned you with light, but I’m sensing a low-level sentience in the forms. Perhaps will-o-wisps or light motes.”

“Wonderful,” snarled Maktov, as he watched the woman unload her tools of trade. Now, he felt as if the pain inside him were a squirming sort of pain. Filled with light parasites. It made his stomach churn. “Can you help?”

“Yes, but it will be complicated and painful.” Mag had unrolled a carrying case and withdrawn a syringe. Jabbing the needle into a bottle, black liquid sucked up into the tube. “The light creatures will fight as they’re dragged out, which will cause further damage. I will have to heal and detox you, at intervals.”

Quiet fell in the room, punctuated by Mag’s bottles clinking as she fiddled and squinted at them. A coldness seared into Maktov. He didn’t know anything about this woman, this witch. He didn’t know if he could trust her. Could he even trust Thalia? Or Taryn? The shadows clenched tightly around him, his heart throbbing. Even with adrenaline and pain flaring inside him, exhaustion tore at the edges of his consciousness.

Regardless of his paranoia, Maktov knew he couldn’t fight their help. He was too tired and just wanted to remember how it felt to not be in continual pain.

Thalia lowered herself to the chair at the bedside. Before Mag had arrived, she’d dragged the chair from the dining room into her room. Earlier, she had clumsily managed to bandage his head and continued to talk to him, not wanting him to drouse into unconsciousness. 

“Take his hand,” directed Mag as she held up the needle. Inside, sparkling darkness swirled. “This will help coax some of the light to leave his system, but not all of it.”

Thalia dutifully took his hand in both hers, but couldn’t help asking, “You don’t have any painkillers or anything?”

“Nothing that will work on shadow demon physiology,” the witch shook her head. Her words came out matter-of-fact and calm, as if she’d already thought of all possibilities. “With this nouveau magic, I don’t want to risk injuring him further, either.”

A groan of impatience and pain left Maktov as he minutely adjusted his position in bed.

A little softer than her other directions, Mag told Maktov, “I’ll need you to drop your shadows.”

“Why?” The word shot out with biting outrage. Already, his hand clenched at Thalia’s, but out of anger rather than pain.

Mag remained unfazed, as if a shadow demon full of teeth and rage was nothing to be uncertain of. With the same soft tone, perhaps with a touch of iron to it, she replied, “If I can’t clearly see where the magic is, I can’t get it out.”

He made a sound at the back of his throat, like he wanted to argue. A pain seized at him, causing him to jerk. Maktov glanced from the witch to Thalia. Pain pinched at his face. He could be forced to allow the witch to see him, “Close your eyes.”

For once, Thalia didn’t ask why. When she had firmly closed her eyes, Maktov dropped his shadows, feeling bare and naked before the witch, though he still wore torn and bloodied clothes. He couldn’t bring himself to watch her, though he listened closely as she moved, preparing himself for the pain to come.

She had taken up a position on his side, opposite from Thalia, with a bag of salves and tinctures and gods’ knew what else, placed on the bed beside him. He went rigid as she peeled away the bandages Thalia had placed. Already, they were bled through and needed to be changed anyway.

The tang of iron rose in the air. Blood dribbled from his wound, undoubtedly staining the comforter and bed sheets underneath him. Maybe even the mattress. Maktov felt dizzy just thinking about it.

Muscles in his jaw flexed as she injected him. A soothing sensation spread out from the site, cold and deep. Pain flashed in response, causing him to jerk and flinch, in irregular intervals all over his body. He could feel the pain move, flee, fight. The witch muttered under her breath, drawing the pain toward his open wound.

The witch’s magic filtered into his bloodstream, tentative and gentle as it sought out the intruders. As soon as it met with its prey, the power turned hard and intent, coiling around the light and dragging it to the exit. Though the magic made him itch and squirm, it was the light’s fight that pained him. It dug its claws in, raking along his veins, too stubborn to leave.

Turning his thoughts away from the little bastards in his body, Maktov focused on Thalia’s face. She bit her lower lip and her eyebrows tented with empathetic worry. Even now, he could feel the nagging wish in her head; the wish to look at him.

Sudden pain sliced through him, yanking an expletive from his lips as his body seized. His hold on Thalia tightened, his breathing heavier. The magic had found the poison, melding and tugging it from his body. It was like barbs being pulled out from deep within his body.

Thalia jumped at the sudden commotion, but didn’t open her eyes, didn’t let go as his hold became painful on her hand. She swallowed, completely at a loss for what to do. Tears burned at the back of her eyes. All she could think to do was press her cheek against his hand, murmuring platitudes like a mantra. “It’ll be okay. I’m here.”

His thoughts, weak with pain, turned toward her words. She was there. What could she do, other than hold his hand and tell him everything would be fine? Thoughts, unbidden, trickled through his head. A wishful itch crawled over him. 

“ _Please_ , Thalia,” Maktov hissed, one hand clinging to hers while his free hand caught her by the back of the head. He pulled her close, breathing heavy as he buried his face against her shoulder. What he wanted wouldn’t leave his throat. He nudged his nose against her jawline, his lips ghosting over her flesh as his eyes clenched shut. “Distract me.”


	9. Chapter 9

“ _Please_ , Thalia,” Maktov hissed, one hand clinging to hers while his free hand caught her by the back of the head. He pulled her close, breathing heavy as he buried his face against her shoulder. What he wanted wouldn’t leave his throat. He nudged his nose against her jawline, his lips ghosting over her flesh as his eyes clenched shut. “Distract me.”

Thalia bit her lip harder as he nuzzled against her. Her chest restricted and uncertainty peppered her thoughts. She could only think of one way to keep his mind off the pain and, honestly, she wasn’t even sure if it was right.

Would he really want to be _kissed_ in a state like this?

Not able to look at Maktov was such a hindrance. His hand tightened around hers, his back arching, despite his efforts to stay still. A strangled groan of pain reverberated, muffled, in his throat. Another sound squeezed through his clenched teeth, not quite a ‘please’ but definitely in the vicinity. 

With no other ideas presenting themselves, Thalia trailed her lips along his jawline. She moved slow, hesitantly, giving him any chance to growl in confusion and pull away should she be reading his unspoken request wrong. Needy - and a bit impatient - Maktov turned his head, his lips grazing hers.

Neither would’ve been able to say, with certainty, who pressed into the kiss. But the moment their lips met, fully, Maktov seemed to relax a little and sighed against Thalia’s mouth. Thoughts no longer completely focused on the pain, on bracing for the sharp aches, on feeling the light claw in his veins as it was coaxed out. His mind focused on Thalia’s softness, the heat of her, her scent, everything. His hand at the back of her head pulled her closer, his fingers tangled into her soft hair as he deepened the kiss. With a coy eagerness, Thalia returned the action.

She shifted, bracing one elbow on the bed as she leaned over him. She still held tight to his hand, though this time she pressed it to her chest. Her free hand cupped against the far side of his neck, thumb stroking a wide arch that passed over his jawline and throat. Tense muscles flexed under her touch. An itch to touch him further, more intimately, crept into her fingers. 

At the back of her head, a small bead of guilt swelled. He was in excruciating pain. Was this really the best way she could distract him? Surely, if she thought a little longer, she could’ve come up with something less skeevy. 

Maktov suddenly pulled away, fingers tightening painfully in her hair and around her hand. Another strangled snarl of pain worked in his throat. Thalia’s eyelids flickered, almost opening, before she caught herself. 

Not being allowed to see turned her thoughts toward frustration. She couldn’t even chance a look at Mag, couldn’t see if the woman even cared what the two of them were doing. Was she intent on the work at hand, not even noticing them? Or was she sneering at their inappropriate actions? Or was this something she’d already seen before?

Instead of focusing on the swirl of contemplations, Thalia focused on him. Her lips found their way along his jaw, coasting along his throat. His pulse throbbed under her, driven to an exhaustive beat between pain and adrenaline. Without thinking - or maybe just forgetting restraint - Thalia nipped at his flesh.

Almost immediately, Maktov inhaled sharply and his eyes snapped open. He’d been enjoying her breath against his neck and the feather-light touch of her lips, chaste exploration as the pain rippled away. Her teeth grazing over him cleaved through everything else, abrupt and jarring. Heat coiled deep inside him as he groaned a deep-chested, “ _Fuck_.”

This time, the expletive had nothing to do with pain. Thalia could tell. That one word sent a hot tingle down Thalia’s spine. She wanted to hear him do it again, wanted to hear what else she could coax out of him, but before she could nip, his fingers caught her chin. With a firm hold, he tilted Thalia’s face toward his. Her eyelids flickered, but didn’t open. Against her lips, Maktov sighed, a touch ruefully, “Too much.” 

Despite herself and the situation, Thalia smiled, though she felt silly with her eyes closed. The pain still echoed through his body, but Maktov didn’t mind. Or, perhaps, his mind blotted it out to focus on something better. He caught Thalia’s lips again. Her smile melted against him, a breath that barely counted as a sigh escaping her. This time, he wasn’t as needy, wasn’t as fervent. His eyes fluttered shut, enjoying a slower and softer kiss. A heat burned deep within him, stoked slow and even. 

He felt as if that heat could sear him through the bone. Get rid of every ache plaguing him, physical and otherwise.

Likewise, a heavy burn weighed in Thalia’s core. Threads of heat reached out, extending out through arms and legs. And everywhere Maktov touched her, she felt that burn in her jump.

They enjoyed the kiss, as if they were lingering over a good wine. Their hands began to drift. Hers to his shoulders, rubbing her thumbs along the curve of his throat to his clavicle; his, tentatively down her sides, exploring her in a restrained way, as far as he could reach. At the back of their minds, they vaguely remembered Mag’s presence. That was probably the only thing keeping their actions from going too far.

Relatively speaking.

“Done. If you notice more lights, call me.” When Mag spoke, it was as if cold water doused Maktov and Thalia. Both pulled away from each other and, in a rush, Maktov hurriedly shrouded himself in shadows before Thalia could look.

His chest heaved gently as, with some embarrassment, he tried to calm his body down from its fevered… distraction. 

In an effort to peel his thoughts away from Thalia, he took inventory of himself. His wound had been dressed with clean bandages. No little flashes of light glittered beneath his shadows. A wave of fatigue licked over him, lapping further along his body the longer he thought. Now that the cloak of continual pain had been ripped away, and Thalia’s engaging presence had parted from him, every fiber of him felt weak and flimsy and fuzzy. 

As he took stock of himself, Mag cleaned up her work area. Bottles and vials were shoved into her bag, along with stained rags and unused bandages. “I’ll send Cherie back tomorrow with an elixir, maybe some calming tea. I don’t get a lot of shadow demons, so I need to reference a few things first. It’s probably a good idea if he doesn’t strain himself, in the meantime.”

Thalia jumped up from her position hovering over the bed. She tried to ignore the blush burning her face or how her lips tingled from their atypical exercise. Mag’s words and her body language betrayed no exasperation with the two of them. She still gave off the air of someone unfamiliar with nonsense. When Thalia thought she could talk without sounding winded, she said, “Thank you for your help.”

“It’s what I do.”

Thalia shifted, from foot to foot. She wasn’t sure what to do or what to ask. Though she tried to jumpstart some avenue of questioning in her mind, her mind sputtered. Had the kissing frazzled her brain that much? Groping for a next step, Thalia wanly asked, “Should we file a police report or something?” 

“No,” Mag’s voice turned dark and barbed. That single word spoke volumes about the witch’s plans for the attackers, though it was masked in words too vague to be a threat. “I already cast a protection spell over this place before I entered, so now I will handle the attackers.”

“Okay…” Thalia moved to her purse, sitting on her dresser not far away. Riffling through it in the dark, her fingertips found the familiar texture of her wallet. She turned to address the witch again. “What do I owe you, then?” 

At that, Mag zipped her duffel bag up loudly. Her green eyes flicked to Thalia, the room a little darker with her candles extinguished. Thalia thought she could see a glow beneath the surface of that gaze. 

“I don’t do this for payment.” Mag glanced to the bedroom door, securely closed after she’d entered. Beyond, Cherie and Taryn’s voice carried, along with the sound of the television. “I do this to keep our community safe.”

Our community. Thalia’as focus zeroed in on the teenagers’ talking out in the living room. Happy laughter and teasing words and amused outrage. So many different emotions in such a small conversation. It was normal in Thalia’s home.

It might not be so normal in others.

Maktov had a spot in this ‘community.’ As did Taryn and, by extension, Thalia. Fresh and old memories bubbled up in her mind. Maktov, bloodied. Taryn, a little younger, sobbing after a long run home. The pain he voiced, when he was angry at her staring. The nights when more than one teenager took shelter under her own roof, for merriment or safety. The way eyes followed Maktov, Taryn, their friend. The lulls as conversations became heavy and uncomfortable.

With determination in her movement, she emptied her wallet of cash. Perhaps a hundred dollars, barely. Before Mag reached for the door, Thalia cut her off and thrust the money forward. Bewildered green eyes met her gaze as she said, “Take this. Call it what you like, a donation or a payment. If you need something, anything, I’ll do what I can to help.”

After a moment’s silence, as Mag stared down Thalia’s expression, the witch sighed and took the money. Slowly, she pocketed it and pushed out from the bedroom. With a shout, announcing they were heading home, Cherie popped his head out from the living room.

“I’m done. It’s time to head home,” announced Mag, a hand on her hip and her bag on her shoulder. Cherie nodded, shoving his sneakers back onto his feet as he told Taryn to text him later. From their spot on the couch, Taryn nodded, thanking the two guests. The smile didn’t quite reach their eyes, Thalia noticed.

She’d check on Taryn after walking Cherie and Mag out, she decided.

Before Mag entirely left the building, Thalia grabbed her by the crook of the arm. The witch paused, glancing down at her. Almost immediately, Thalia released the witch, her own hands going wide as memories brought a flush to her cheeks. She couldn’t meet Mag’s eye. “Sorry, but what Maktov and I did back there… I just… I’m sorry. That was probably very odd.” 

At that, a corner of the witch’s lips quirked up and a puff of amusement left her. “You know, the myth of true love’s kiss has some root in truth. There’s a power behind such displays of caring, regardless what you may be to one another.”

With that, Mag clumped off to her car, where Cherie waited with a curious gaze. Thalia watched as the witch flung her bag into her trunk, ushering her nephew into a seat, before driving off into the night. As the car dwindled in the distance, her mind still gnawed at Mag’s departing words, before turning to go back inside.


	10. Chapter 10

Taryn bid good-bye to their friend and watched as their mom walked the guests out. They waited until the front door closed fully, before turning toward the far bedroom. The door was left ajar and light from the hall made a small trapezoid of light on the dark floor. Despite the darkness, they could make out a lump still on the bed, dark and still. They edged closer to the door, as if debating on entering. 

“Yes?”

They jumped, Maktov’s voice creeping out of the dark room. He sounded tired and bedraggled, but he propped himself up on his elbows, high enough so Taryn could see his face. The teen couldn’t describe what it was about Maktov’s features. Something about them evoked a sense of exhaustion. Scrunching their shoulders to their ears, Taryn seemed to battle internally, before asking, “Are you doing better?”

His only answer was a non-committal grunt. Could be better, could be worse. 

The room felt massive as Taryn edged closer. It was silly. This was their mother’s room. It was nothing new. But with Maktov there, sitting in the bed, the darkness seemed deeper, more immense, at the corners. It left the impression of a much bigger room. Regardless, Taryn managed to make their way to the bedside, kneeling down with elbows leaning on the mattress.

To Maktov, it seemed as if Taryn wanted to say something, but all they could do was pick at the comforter. Awkwardness rose up in him, too tired to even guess what the teen wanted.

Eventually, they looked up at Maktov, eyes holding that sliver of determined light that was so like their mother’s. “I’m glad you didn’t die.”

“Same.” A tired smile tilted at Maktov’s lips. It seemed oddly funny to have someone say that to him, when he had been much closer to death’s door just a few hours earlier.

“I have to fess up to something,” Taryn pressed on, their tone weighing with severity. Maktov inclined their head to them, though he was soon bowled over as words came pouring out of Taryn, “Before you came back, I was talking to my mom about you. And I was, I don’t know, uncertain or jealous or whatever of you.

“Then, when the doorbell rang, I sorta rolled my eyes like ‘great he’s back’ ‘til mom called me into the hall and-” At this point, the slew of words choked off. Tears beaded from Taryn’s eyes and they roughly rubbed them away with the palm of their hands, as if they were annoyances. Their voice cracked as they tried to push forward, “And you were there and there was blood - so much blood - and you didn’t look good. Everything looked off and wrong and I thought… I thought maybe it was my fault, which I know sounds ridiculous, but I had just been talking about you and I was annoyed with you and-”

The little droplets had turned to streams of tears. Taryn pressed their face into the mattress, shoulders shuddering as they tried to suppress their cries. Maktov only just managed to hear their muffled sob, “I’m just really glad you’re not dead.”

Maktov blinked slowly, trying to make sense of the words as they replayed in his head. Taryn still shuddered, head pressed tightly to their crossed arms as they rested on the mattress. In that moment, he realized how young Taryn was. Along his arms, muscles tightened as he awkwardly considered what to do.

“It’s highly unlikely your thought got me jumped.” 

Taryn’s eyes, red-rimmed, snapped to his face. A frown curved over their lips, annoyed at being told something they already knew. “I know, but-” 

Maktov held up a hand, quieting Taryn. 

“In the spirit of science, however, I would much rather you think of me winning a fortune.” A smirk quirked up half his mouth, teeth peeking out through the smile. “If I do come into a fortune, then all will be forgiven. If I don’t, well, then you didn’t cause anything bad to happen to me.”

Taryn’s lips twisted, trying to stay serious, doing their best to not break into a smile. This was serious! Looking into the Maktov’s tired face, worn ragged from the day’s events, he still managed good humor. Taryn failed to keep their stern expression, a begrudging grin spreading over their face. With a roll of their eyes, they huffed, “Okay, but I want a cut of the money.” 

“A cut of what money?”

Taryn and Maktov started, turning to the doorway where Thalia stood. Her eyebrows cocked with curiosity as her eyes flickered from one to the other. 

“It’s just a joke, mom.” Taryn waved their mother’s look away with a hand. At that, Maktov’s features flickered, like raising an eyebrow at the suddenly nonchalant teenager.

“If you say so,” sighed Thalia, concern now etched into her eyebrows. The night had been long, however, and - from the look Taryn was giving her - she didn’t have the energy to face a stubborn teenager. “Have you eaten anything?” 

“Yes, Cherie and I had sandwiches and chips.” 

“Then get ready for bed.” Thalia wrapped an arm around Taryn’s shoulders, squeezing tightly. Tiredness was beginning to sneak in through the cracks of her adrenaline. Taryn sagged into the hug, the calm and collected face breaking, just a little. “Depending on how you feel in the morning, I might call you in sick to school.” 

Taryn nodded, giving their mom a hug. They touched Maktov’s arm and muttered a good night to him, then left the room.

Thalia remained, watching her teenager trudge down the hall, to their bedroom door. When they had disappeared into their room, the door clicking shut behind them, she turned to Maktov with an unflinching curiosity. “So, what was Taryn talking to you about?”

Maktov’s shadows undulated a little, in uncertainty. Was this something Taryn would want talked about? They seemed insistent on playing it cool. The maternal insistence in Thalia’s eyes clashed against him, needling into him. With a shrug, Maktov sighed, “They felt some level of responsibility for the attack, since they’d just been talking to you in a somewhat negative way about me.”

“Oh.” It was an abrupt soft word, like a sigh, attention snapping back to Taryn’s door.

He watched painful sympathy crumple the edges of Thalia’s features. Undoubtedly, she felt some blame for not talking to her child sooner. But she was tired, as was Taryn. Before Thalia could go to Taryn’s room, making the night longer with a heart-to-heart, Maktov added, “I assured them they didn’t cause it, but - if they really insisted on testing out this power - to think of me getting rich.”

That caught Thalia off-guard. She blinked, brain piecing together his joke or, perhaps, scheme.

“To which Taryn mentioned a cut of the profit,” sighed Thalia, piecing the conversation together to form the full picture. In the dark of the room, Maktov could clearly see her lips curl a little at the corners. She shook her head, giving a puff of a laugh, before her stomach gurgled loudly. “I’m going to make myself some dinner. Are you hungry?”

“Peckish,” he replied, with a shrug. “I don’t know if I can stomach much.” 

Ten minutes later, Thalia and Maktov sat on her bed, backs propped against the headboard, eating PB&J and chips in silence. He picked at his meal, his appetite waffling after the chaos and pain of the day. 

As he poked at his food, Thalia’s mind was hashing out a mental to-do list. Tomorrow, she’d have to work, clean her sheets, and… her mind stuttered for a second. She glanced over to Maktov. In the dim light from the hall, she could make out his silhouette and the ragged edges of his torn clothes. Plenty of options arose in her head about him: new clothes, toiletries, a bath, retrieve some things from his apartment. But none of that mattered if he was going to leave as soon as he was well. “Hey, Maktov, do you want to stay here for a bit or…?”

Maktov’s stomach clenched at the words. He knew, at the back of his head, he didn’t want to return to his place. Not right now, at least. His apartment was home, but it was also very solitary. Being alone wasn’t on his top ten list of things to do. Something inside him clamped down on that admittance, though. 

He glanced at Thalia, about ready to deliver a false assurance, when his eyes flicked to a smudge on her cheek. “You’ve got some stuff on your face.” 

Thalia jolted, embarrassment evident as she raised a hand to wipe the jelly or peanut butter away. Before she could, Maktov caught her by the wrist and leaned close. 

Air caught in Thalia’s lungs as his lips touched her cheek, cleaning the smear. The shadows of his aura brushed over her skin. When he leaned back, tongue flicking out over his lower lip to catch any stray taste, her expression hammered in his transgression.

Shit. 

He shouldn’t have done that. Why the fuck had he done that? There were better ways to clean her face, like swiping his thumb across the trespassing food. Or, better yet, letting her handle it herself! Shit. It was too late now. 

That became clearer as Thalia all but jumped off the bed, her palm pressed to her cheek. Heat simmered deep inside her and splashed over her face, both from mortification and a revival of that heat from earlier. Which brought back that little nagging guilt. It didn’t deter the revival of that slow burn that prickled over her as they kissed, while a witch flushed toxins from his body.

Gods, what a thought. Never in her wildest imagination could she have strung together such a scene.

“I should let you rest!” Her voice sounded high-pitched and frenzied in Thalia’s own head. “I’ll just go sleep on the couch.”

She started for the door, the blush spreading further across her cheeks. Distance. That’s what was needed. The two of them just needed some space to get their heads on straight.

“Wait, I’m sorry! That wasn’t… I shouldn’t have done that.” Thalia paused at his words, half turning back toward him. A wince colored Maktov’s tone as he shifted his plate from his lap, to the bedside table. His gaze dropped from Thalia’s face to his hands, which rested in his lap. He fiddled with a torn edge of his shirt, unable to look up. “Just like I shouldn’t have requested you distract me, earlier. I’m sorry.”

The air between Thalia and Maktov weighed heavily atop them. Try as he might, Maktov could never get his gaze to turn directly on Thalia. Guilt throbbed inside him, sharpening the blades of his transgressions. The kiss he’d initiated wasn’t the least bit chaste and his most recent action was overly-intimate. Shocked, angry, disgusted, conflicted. Thalia had all rights to feel these and want to get away from him.

Part of him twinged at the very thought, though.

Thalia’s thoughts raced and tumbled over one another, uncertain and confused and embarrassed. In context, she could see where he thought he misstepped. His request was made in the throes of pain and she might’ve felt obligated to comply. But she hadn’t felt that way. Not in the way he might be thinking.

“Don’t be sorry.The kiss was of my own volition and I didn’t mind what you did just now.” Thalia’s heart jumped as Maktov’s attention turned to her. The light from the hall skirted across his jawline, the white ‘eyes’ in his aura seemed to widen and round. Heat crept over Thalia’s cheeks, reaching up to fiddle with a lock of her hair. Her words sped up, crashing through her stream of consciousness and out her mouth. “But you’ve gone through a lot and you’re probably tired. I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and feel like I’ve taken advantage, so I should probably go sleep on the couch.”

Another long quiet stretched between them. Thalia vaguely saw the movement of his hands, clenching and unclenching. 

The words were thick and awkward in his throat as he forced them out, “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

It took Thalia a breath to register his words. They felt surreal and flimsy, like someone dubbing over Maktov’s voice. The words had been soft and frayed at the edges.

More concerns faltered in the face of his words. He didn’t want to be alone, so he wanted her to stay. Not that he had many options here. Thalia shoved the point away as she softly said, “Okay, let me just check the door and turn off the lights.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! If you've been following this story on Ao3, please check out my Wattpad. My username there is erudenedure. I'm much better about updating my stories there!
> 
> Plus, I have more stories available. :)

More concerns faltered in the face of his words. He didn’t want to be alone, so he wanted her to stay. Not that he had many options here. Thalia shoved the point away as she softly said, “Okay, let me just check the door and turn off the lights.” **  
**

As soon as the front door was locked and the rest of the apartment swathed in darkness, Thalia made her way back to her room, to her bed, by the light of her cellphone. Her heart thrummed in her chest, though sensibility tried to douse it. He just didn’t want to be alone. It had nothing to do with her, specifically.

When she neared the bed, she realized Maktov had shifted his position. Now he laid on his uninjured side, facing the center of the bed. In the dark, she couldn’t tell if he slept or merely rested with his eyes closed. Placing her phone facedown on the bedside table, she climbed onto the bed, as gingerly as possible. Illumination from exterior lights snuck passed the curtains, but - for the most part - everything was pitch black. 

After she had settled into the bed, on her side facing him, she couldn’t help staring. He was just a denser silhouette against the shadow, though she thought his outline slightly shifted in the dark. As if his own shadows were shifting, just enough, to be noticeable. For the first time, a rear-thought sidled through her mind. He could drop those shadows. There was more underneath that darkness. Thalia wondered what he looked, under it all.

Maktov’s eyes cracked open - slivers of almost glowing white in the inky black - and, for a breath, they watched one another. Finally, he mumbled, “If you’re uncomfortable with me, you don’t have to-” 

Thalia reached out, her fingers pressed against his mouth, quieting him. He tensed under her touch and, she thought, he held his breath. She closed her eyes with a sigh, temptation filling her thoughts with different places to drag her fingertips, different areas to let her lips linger. “Let’s sleep and clear our heads, before either one of us does something we’ll regret.”

“Okay,” he said, but Thalia felt his fingers clasp around her wrist. Her skin burned as his lips skimmed over her palm. A ghost of a kiss against her hand. 

Her eyes snapped open, a flush nipping at her cheeks. Though she didn’t pull away from his hold, she hissed, “You’re making this very hard.”

Against her hand, Thalia felt his lips twitch into a grin and a light scoff leave him. He radiated suggestiveness. As if he were saying, ‘You’re one to talk about making things hard.’ 

Gods, what was wrong with her? Her mind was going down the dirtiest paths so quickly. She wasn’t that hard-up, was she? Then again, their interactions had started because she stared at his teeth, thinking of them on her neck and chest and…

Before she knew it, Thalia pulled her palm from his mouth, only to replace it with her lips. Her hands pressed to his chest, only fabric separating skin to shadow. Maktov made a sound, something caught between surprise and delight, before his hand found the small of her back, pressing her flush against him. His other hand cupped at her cheek, tugging her closer as the kiss deepened. His shadows - soft and barely there - coiled around her, teasing across bare flesh and tentatively dipping beneath the very edges of her clothes. Deep in her pleasurable haze, Thalia ached for the touches to go farther.

All other thoughts fled under the onslaught of hormones. She just wanted to touch him, to delight in the sensation and sound of him. And he imagined much of the same about her. The touch of her warmed skin and the sound of her hitched breath.

Her teeth grazing over his lips shot electric warmth down Maktov’s spine. He breathed a low growl, breaking the kiss to nip along her throat. Thalia gasped as the points of his teeth dragged across her neck and she bared her throat further to him. Her fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, pulling tightly at the garment. Her body arched against his, a small mewl of gasp leaving her lips. That small sound drove his body to roll atop her, wanting to feel more of her pressed against him as tightly as possible. 

Or attempted to roll atop her… 

“Wait!” Thalia gasped when she registered what he intended to do. At the same time, pain cleaved across his side and echoed along his body, reminding him of tender state. In synchronicity, the injury at his head throbbed in time. He hissed an expletive, falling fully back to his side as he bent in pain. His arm instinctively tightening crushed Thalia against him, bringing a new wave of guilt crashing through her.

The agony seemed short lived as Maktov relaxed against her. Though the dull throb of pain, though healing, echoed through his body.

“On that note,” Thalia stated, gently shoving his arm off her before rolling over, her back to Maktov. She didn’t want to risk causing him pain again. The flush on her face, uncomfortably warm in the cool darkness, only served to deepen her guilt. “We should really get some rest.”

Maktov’s fingers twitched, eager to breach the small gap between him and Thalia. He wanted to touch her, feel her next to him. Something ached in him that hadn’t stirred in a long time. His self-discipline, suddenly reappearing, tamped down on the desire. Unable to roll onto his injured side, he just pressed his face into the pillow and mumbled a muffled, “Alright.”

Though both fell quiet, their minds buzzed. They replayed the events of the day, the evening, the last few minutes until sleep dragged the two into unconsciousness before temptation could rise again.

—

Bleary-eyed, Maktov woke with a start. Immediately, he realized he wasn’t in his home. Though the black-out curtains used did a fair job, there was more than a little sunlight sneaking in through the cracks. His room didn’t allow a single iota through. Groggy memories trod back into his consciousness. Along with the pain. It wasn’t as bad as yesterday, or even last night, but as he began moving, it flared.

As his recollection pieced itself together, he realized Thalia was gone from the bed. That was when his nose caught a whiff of breakfast. His stomach lurched, a monster of hunger compared to his less than active appetite of last night. Heaving himself out of the bed, Maktov paused as he caught sight of his reflection.

Dirt and dried blood stained his clothes. Tears and rips peppered the fabric. He wasn’t even sure what happened to his glasses in the commotion. Even his shadows bore some hint of raggedness. A different sort of tiredness tore at his eyes. One where he just wanted to curl up and sleep, in an effort to forget the world. 

The pull of his hunger won out, though. Cloaking himself in a blanket, Maktov followed the scent of food to the kitchen.

Standing with her back to the entryway, Thalia stood at the stove, directing the sizzle of cooking pancakes. “You really don’t have to go in, if you’re not feeling up to it.” 

“Mom, I told you I’m fine.” A little ways away, Taryn leaned against a counter and shoveled syrup-saturated pancakes into their mouth. Sleep deprived bags hung under their eyes. Maktov slightly recognized the clothes, though he couldn’t be sure if they were the same from last night or just from their first meeting. All the same, they appeared a bit rumpled.

The instant Maktov appeared, though, Taryn’s eyes flickered to his presence. “Hey, shouldn’t you be resting?”

From her place at the stove, Thalia half-turned. As if in answer to both their curious gazes, Maktov’s stomach rumbled. He clutched the blanket tighter around him, trying to ignore Thalia and Taryn’s smiles of amusement. “I smelled food.” 

“Yeah, you’re lucky,” laughed Taryn, smearing syrup around their now empty plate with their fork. “Mom’s making pancakes. That’s usually a weekend only treat.”

Before Maktov could answer, or even dwell on what that meant, Thalia piped up. “I told you, I wasn’t sure what else he liked!” 

“Uh-huuuh.” Taryn’s grin only widened, an eyebrow cocked. Maktov could almost feel the memories emanating from the teenager; every time they had to suffer through a new vegetable, or less-than-child-approved meal or denied a preferential fast food option. 

Thalia wrinkled her nose at Taryn. “If you insist on going to school, go brush your teeth and get your things together.”

Taryn cackled as they left the room, padding toward the bathroom.

Thalia huffed, turning back to flip a few more pancakes. In a few minutes, she plated the pancakes and nodded toward the dining area in the other room. Maktov followed behind her, the blanket still draped over his shoulders and hiding his less-than-stellar state from sight.

“Thanks, but you didn’t have to do anything special for me,” Maktov said, as he settled in front of a plate. His stomach gurgled, impatient to dig into the food. As he buttered and cut his pancakes into pieces, he continued, “I’d have been fine with a bowl of cereal.”

“It’s fine. I got up early, anyway.” Thalia focused intently on cutting her pancakes. Like yesterday, her slices were rather imprecise compared to Maktov’s, but she didn’t notice. She was doing her damnedest to not think of earlier, of the particularly heated dream or how she woke up, curled up against him. Her own sense of mortification began to warm her cheeks, all the same.

Maktov wouldn’t have noticed had she melted into the floor. Uncertainty crept along his shoulders, making them hunch under the blanket. He’d asked so much of Thalia and Taryn last night and, still, she found it necessary to make him food. Only because she didn’t know what else he liked. Though, at least, it made his stomach stop growling.

Silence stretched between Thalia and Maktov, only punctured by the sounds of silverware on plates. They ate quietly, neither meeting the other’s eye.

The doorbell suddenly rang, prompting Taryn to tromp to the front door - ready for the day - and successfully shatter the quiet. There was shuffling at the door, before Cherie entered the dining area, a bag in hand and papers clutched in his hand. 

“Good morning, Cherie.” Thalia smiled, getting to her feet to approach the young man.

For a brief moment, Cherie’s eyes had wandered to Maktov, concern evident. Maktov couldn’t be sure if the boy was worried for him or of him, though. Cherie flashed Thalia a smile as his attention shifted, displaying pointy canines, and he proffered the gifts. “Aunt Mag sent over a salve, some written instructions, and some doctor’s notes.” 

“Doctor’s notes?” Thalia’s eyebrows furrowed as she took the items. She skirted around the table, bringing them over to Maktov so he wouldn’t have to get up. Without a word, she began pulling items from the bag, placing them within his reach. 

“She thought he might need them for time-off needs,” Cherie answered. He glanced to Taryn, as if in confirmation of their next course of action, “We should get heading out, though, right?”

After a nod from Taryn and good-bye ‘love yous’ exchanged between child and mother, the two teenagers raced out the door. When their tromping feet had died away, Thalia turned toward Maktov.

Done with his food, Maktov had immediately begun investigating the items, almost to the point of ignoring the others. A round container of some homebrewed ointment that smelled vaguely of eucalyptus and nether root. A paper with swirly scrawl, titled in red ‘Read Before Applying.’ And, of course, a couple medical excuse notes with a legit-looking letterhead and an illegible doctor’s signature. 

The words on the papers wobbled before his eyes. He held the note out further, brought it closer, squinted. Nothing seemed to correct the swimming letters.

“Maktov, you okay there?” Thalia’s voice interrupted his attempts to make sense of the words.

Frustration prompted an automatic, “Yes, I’m fine.”

She sat down at the table beside him, head tilted to the side. He squirmed under her scrutiny until, finally, she asked, “Where are your glasses?” 

Oh. That made sense. Maktov blinked, tracing through his memories, back to when he last had his spectacles. With a heavy sigh, he put the papers down and muttered, “I must have lost them during the attack. I didn’t even realize.”

“Do you have extras?”

“I think I have an old pair, back at my place,” he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The seedlings of a headache - the kind he got when trying to read something in bright light without his glasses - took root behind his eyes. At the same time, his stomach clenched at the thought of heading home. 

“Oh, that’s good,” Thalia said as she got to her feet, retrieving her empty plate. As she headed for the kitchen, she added over her shoulder, “You can pick up some clothes, too, if you’re staying longer.” 

A breath lodged in Maktov’s lungs. Longer? He hadn’t quite thought beyond the day. His heart felt as if it skidded across pavement, thrumming fast for one reason, only to pause and resume a speedy throb for another. Brief thoughts of last night tumbled through his head. Her kiss, the way she felt, the pain from his own ill-thought carnal drive, her distance. Part of him wondered why she’d want him to stay. Another part crowed, ‘isn’t it obvious?’ 

A groan nearly left his lips, before Thalia re-entered the dining area. 

“I should probably find you something to wear.” She drew closer to him, prompting tension to string along Maktov’s shoulders. He relaxed, a little from relief and a little from disappointment, when she picked up his plate. When he dared to look up, concern pinched between her eyebrows. “I should’ve thought about getting you some fresh clothes earlier. I’m sorry.” 

“You cooked me breakfast,” he said, tone level and with only a tinge of exasperation. 

Thalia shrugged, humming with disagreement, as she turned back to the kitchen. He watched her go, distrusting himself to move anywhere except after her. Too close after her. Tingles licked across his hands, remembering the way she felt beneath his fingertips. 

“We better get on with our day,” called Thalia from the kitchen. Maktov could hear the water turn on, plates clinking as she added, a little louder, “Go shower. I’ll find you some clothes.”

As Maktov got to his feet, he almost - almost - invited her to join him. His teeth snapping down on his tongue kept the words from escaping. Using the circuitous path, from dining area to hall connecting Thalia’s room, Maktov bypassed the kitchen. Maybe a shower would wash the residual hormones from him.

Once Thalia heard the shower start, her shoulders eased. It had taken so much discipline to not touch him, not graze her finger tips against his back or along his arms as she passed him. Even now, her brain replayed the small fraction of time from last night. Deep, deep beneath her thoughts, she wondered if shadow demons healed speedily. 

“Oh my gods, stop that, Thalia,” she hissed to herself. Her hormones only obliged with imaginings of Maktov in the shower. Would he take his shadow aura off for that? Or could he shower with it in place? Heat kissed along her body, lingering at her cheeks and lower stomach.

With a growl of frustration, she stomped over to the freezer. Flinging the door open, she grabbed two cubes of ice. One pressed to the back of her neck, the other popped into her mouth. Clenching her eyes shut, Thalia breathed deeply as the cold sunk in, equalizing against the heat. 

The same thought flashed through their heads: _It was going to be a very long day._


	12. Chapter 12

With heart pounding and hands alight with nerves, Maktov almost felt like a teenager bringing home a crush for the first time. The fact her scent enveloped him didn’t help matters. Thalia had found him a tee-shirt - a promotional item from an art festival - to wear. Though, he still wore his ragged, blood-spattered pants. 

Memories of the attack flashed through his head. That had been the last time he’d entered the apartment. The anxiety doubled, making his heart thrum harder in his chest.

He ignored his body’s reactions to the images as he shoved open the door, entering his living room. Thalia followed at his heels, eyes already drinking in the interior. 

It was dark, she noticed. Not pitch black, but darker than she was used to. Especially as the front door swung shut behind her. “Do you have any lights?” 

Maktov made a sound, but as something clicked, gentle illumination poured from the ceiling light. When she could see, she realized he had a dimmable light knobs at his disposal. Which made sense, she realized. 

In the growing light, Thalia began drinking in the details. Spartan was the best description for his decor. A plain couch, a coffee table, greyish carpeting, an average-sized television. Though, the bookshelf caught her eye, crammed with books. Other than a book on the coffee table, the room seemed clean and tidy.

There were no photos or art on the walls, however. Nor trinkets or baubles that littered her house.

The apartment was a small one-bedroom sort, with an almost square layout. The front door led to the living room and, a little to the right, a kitchen with an open space for a small table. Then there was the bathroom, she could see, at the juncture of the hall, and - presumably - to Maktov’s bedroom around the corner. Very straightforward.

When the lighting reached the ‘theater before the previews’, he stopped. Though he itched to hear her commentary, discipline turned his feet toward his room. “I’m going to change.” 

“You should probably pack some stuff, too.” She turned to him, head cocked to the side. ”If you’re going to be staying at my place for a bit?” 

Maktov paused as he turned the corner of the hall, toward his room. For a moment, he mulled over returning to his apartment. To the quiet emptiness and solitude. To the independence. Part of him enjoyed the liveliness in Thalia’s home. But could he continue to wear on her goodwill? 

Worry repeated the attack in Maktov’s head, making his healing injuries ache along with his chest. He concentrated on keeping his tone even and detached. “If it’s not too much of an inconvenience for you, I’d appreciate it.” 

He quickly darted down the hall, to the thick dark haven of his room. Behind him, Thalia’s voice taunted him. “It’s no problem, at all. I really like having you around, Maktov.” 

When he’d gone, a bedroom door clicking in his wake, Thalia hummed to herself. Her gaze flicked to the bookshelf, tempted to nose through his selections. However, a more responsible part of her turned her toward the kitchen.

As she flipped the light switch, the overhead light shone blearily down. He must have taken half the bulbs out of the fixtures, she mused, as she riffled through the cabinets and the refrigerator. If he was going to stay with her, it made no sense to leave perishables behind. Besides, she should poke around and see what sorts of foods he did enjoy. 

While Thalia got nosey in the kitchen, Maktov darted about his room. After finding his duffel bag, he changed and gathered miscellaneous clothes. At the back of his head, he had a mental list of things he needed. Underwear, socks, shirts, pants, toothpaste, toothbrush, floss, back-up glasses, documents for work, phone charger… What else would he need while at Thalia’s place?

He paused, eyes focusing on his duffel bag and the items inside. Tingles trailed up his back as he eyed his bedside table. The condoms and lube taunted him from inside the drawer.

Dragging his gaze away, Maktov tried to forget the thought even crossed his mind. He could only imagine two scenarios as that result. 

One, she’d stumble on the items and tell him last night had just been a result of high emotions and being overwhelmed; she cared about him and she’d be too nice to kick him out. But that’d make things awkward. 

Or situation two. The condoms and lube would tempt him to pursue. And he wasn’t entirely sure where his head was at, as far as sex and relationships went. Would she think he was interested in something more? Or would she expect a casual fuck and just assume he felt the same? Was he interested? Or was he just craving something good after the trauma of being jumped and nearly killed?

As soon as the thought of sex and fuck and relationships hit his head, the memories of her lips, the kisses, the feel of her beneath his hands filtered to the top. He growled to himself - disappointed at his own lack of restraint - as he shoved items a little more forcefully into the duffel bag.

“Maktov?”

He nearly jumped out of his skin as Thalia’s hesitant voice came from the doorway, left open after he’d changed. Spinning around on his heel, he stared at her from the depths of the room. Thalia’s gaze wasn’t on him, but was searching the room. Perhaps looking for silhouettes of the furniture, maybe looking for him. 

As he turned, and she caught the white glow of his ‘eyes’ in the aura, Thalia’s gaze flicked to him. She seemed relieved, though her gaze did glance downward, squinting a bit. “Geez, if it wasn’t for your eyes, I wouldn’t know where you were at.” 

“It may have slipped your mind, but shadow demon.” He made a motion to himself, before stopping halfway, realizing she wouldn’t be able to see it. 

Thalia still gave him an unamused look, clearly reading his sarcastic tone. “Anyway, do you have a cooler? Your perishables in your fridge shouldn’t go to waste and I don’t know how often you want to come back here.”

“No, I don’t have a cooler.” 

“Empty tote, then?” 

Maktov gave her a ‘mhmn’ in reply after a brief thought, before trudging to his closet. After a bit of rearranging, he pulled a tote out, dumping its innards in a small pile on the floor. 

“What was that?” Thalia started, already stepping into the dark room. 

Already, the shadows were alert to her presence near him. He could feel the itch to touch her mounting. “Don’t come in here.” 

“What, why not?” Thalia stubbornly attempted to find him in the dark, worry in her eyes. “Are you okay?” 

“Yes, I just dumped some miscellaneous wires out to use the bin,” he explained, realizing the sound of tumbling items had roused her concerned. He approached the door, to Thalia’s gaze softening in relief. “Just don’t come in here.” 

She reached for the tote, eyebrows furrowing. “Why not?”

He sighed, loudly, and racked his brain to explain. Even with her in the doorway, he could feel the pull toward her. “My shadows are stronger the darker the room.” 

“And?” 

The heat licked across his face, trailing downward. “They’re more corporeal.” 

“ _And?_ ” 

“Do you remember how it felt when we kissed in your bed?” Maktov still hadn’t let go of the tote. It was as if he needed her to understand before he released the plastic to her. From the pink creeping across Thalia’s cheeks, he knew she recalled last night. “Imagine that, but - wherever my shadows touched - I could feel it as clearly as if it were my hand and you’d feel it just as firmly, as well.” 

“Oh,” she breathed, softly. He thought she understood, until she shrugged a shoulder and said, “Well, I trust you.” 

“Do realize, being a shadow demon, I’m more inclined to…” Exasperation turned his words into little spikes and struggled to find an appropriate word. His mouth closed, jaw muscle flexing, before he settled on, “I’m much more confident in the dark.”

Thalia’s lips curled into a smile. She got the feeling he was looking for repulsion or fright in her reactions. Not quite seeking it, but trying to spot it as if it was expected. And, for whatever reason, he thought she didn’t quite understand what he was saying. It was almost adorable of him. “ _If_ I tell you to stop, I trust you’ll stop.” 

Maktov’s mind sputtered for a half-second, before cranking into overgear. If she told him to stop. _If_. No, she couldn’t mean it that way. But there was teasing in her gaze and in the curl of her grin. Maktov’s heart thrummed and the air locked in his lungs, considering how far to push this moment.

Thalia saw the understanding flicker in his eyes. Her smile tilted, amused as the light bulb flashed in his thoughts, and she finally wrested the tub from his hands. Though teasing him was fun, a part of Thalia reminded her that Maktov was injured. “Although, you really shouldn’t try anything too strenuous. You’re still healing.”

She had barely turned around, her back to him, when dark tendrils shot out from his room. The tote tumbled from her grip as she gasped, shocked at the display. The shadows coiled around her - her arms, her legs, her torso - and pulled her back toward the darkened bedroom. 

In her chest, her heart beat an erratic tattoo, caught between surprise and excitement. 

Maktov’s bedroom was so dark, she could feel the temperature drop. Her breathing hitched, realizing the shadows - though withdrawing - hadn’t done anything indecent or groped at her. Though, she had the feeling Maktov wanted to touch her. Or maybe that was her own desire. 

The bedroom door shut, leaving Thalia in complete darkness. She strained her gaze, looking for the whites of his eyes or finally picking out silhouettes in the room.

But she couldn’t see a blasted thing. It was too dark for her eyes to adjust. Turning around, she sought her companion. “Maktov?”

His voice came from her right. “Hmm?” 

She turned toward his voice, still searching for him in the dark. “What are you doing?”

“Testing your bravado, I suppose.” Now, his voice came from her left.

“ _You suppose?_ ” Thalia laughed, turning again, but only seeing darkness. Adrenaline teased her heart into a faster beat as she took a step closer. Faintly, she wondered if he was shadow walking to taunt her or if he was simply sneaky enough to creep around her. Her ears strained to hear the shuffle of his feet on carpet and she waited to feel some sense of disturbed air.

“Yes, well… a more thought-out response may embarrass me.” 

He was at her back, Thalia could feel his body heat this time and that kept her from registering the meaning of his words. She spun around. Something about the shadows in front of her nose hinted at proximity. Another step, her arm rising to reach out, she asked, “And what’s _that_ supposed to mean?” 

Thalia didn’t get a chance to touch him. A shadow wrapped around her wrist, leading her in a spin away from Maktov. She wasn’t left to stumble in the dark as he circled her, though. His arms wrapped around her middle, pulling her back flush against his front. Her free hand went to his grasp, fingertips digging into one of his forearms as if to satisfy herself he was there.

Maktov leaned close to Thalia’s ear, his pulse pounding in his ears. Frustration made his words hard as he tried to only lightly hint at the complications, “I want to touch you, very _very_ badly. But I don’t know where that will lead or how you’ll react or if either of us will want that.”

Her teeth dug into her bottom lip, registering his words and the feel of his shadows on her. Against her back, she could feel his heart pound and the firmness of his chest. His tendrils crawled along her arms, releasing her restrained wrist, teasing beneath the fabric of her sleeves. Another shadow edged beneath the hem of her shirt, as if uncertain to explore too far lest it upset her. Along her legs, more shadows caressed up her legs, over the fabric of her jeans. 

Heat simmered in her. She wanted his touch, however he wanted to give it. The hunger to feel his hands, his shadows, all over her body ate at her front he inside. Curiosity and thrill burned whenever his tendrils touched her, wondering how they’d feel against more sensitive parts of her. Wondering if they could delve into parts of her. His lips, hovering close to the stretch from her neck to her ear, made her think of his teeth, sharp and alluring and dragging over her skin. Again. Like last night. Thalia fought down a little, needy whine at the back of her throat before it could sound. 

“You can touch me,” she whispered, sounding lewdly breathless. Thalia swallowed, trying to appear less weak to wanton desires as she firmly added, “ _As long_ as you don’t overexert yourself.” 


	13. NSFW (skippable)

“You can touch me,” she whispered, sounding lewdly breathless. Thalia swallowed, trying to appear less weak to wanton desires as she firmly added, _“As long_ as you don’t overexert yourself.”

Maktov and his tendrils of shadow stilled at her words. He didn’t quite believe he’d heard correctly. After replaying the words in his head, he realized, yes, he’d heard Thalia right. He swallowed, too many options strewn in front of his thoughts, too overwhelmed with possibilities.

She waited with lips pressed together. The heaviness of the air, of the hormones, of the desires weighing down on her. The sensation of being caught in the still before a storm made her tremble with excitement. She couldn’t wait for him to shake off his surprise.

Thalia grasped at his hand, guiding it down her body as her hips tilted in an unspoken request. His hitched breathing burned in his throat as she guided his other hand over her shirt, to her breast. Thalia shivered, his breaths hot against her skin. 

Then the storm swept in. 

All at once, he bared down on her, instinct and desire taking the reins. Maktov’s lips went to her throat, a growl in his chest. Unseen tendrils slid over her body, assisted him in undoing her jeans and sliding them down, tugging at her clothes until cool air kissed at her exposed skin. Thalia gasped, eyes clenching shut as the onslaught of sensations barreled over her. His teeth and tongue at her throat, razing her nerves. His hand groping at her breast, fingers nimble and teasing the hardened bead of her nipple through her bra. His other hand sliding tentatively further south, stroking her through the fabric of her underwear. The indescribable feeling of shadows, licking and kneading all over her body, exploring and caressing, tangling around her fingers. 

Simultaneously, her body throbbed and melted and thrilled beneath his touches. Her brain could barely keep up, lost as his mouth, his fingers, his tongue, his shadows made her whole body light up and fizzle.

When his hand finally slid beneath the barrier of her underwear, his fingertip grazing over her swollen clit, Thalia keened and arched against him. Her knees shook, breaths ragged and throat burning with desire. Tingling heat weaved through her body, everything throbbing at his touch. 

As Thalia leaned against him, her knees growing weak, Maktov guided both of them back, until the back of his legs hit his bed. He lowered them to the bed, Thalia between his legs and shifted their position until they were both fully on the mattress. Thalia barely registered the change of position, leaning entirely on him with her legs spread wide. Her thoughts were warm and syrupy as his shadows massaged and toyed with her, her whole body melting with his touch.

Maktov’s gaze slid down her body. Her clenched eyes, flushed cheeks, lips parted for little gasps and moans. Her chest rising and falling, bra bared as a shadow tendril tugged her shirt up. His fingers tightened into the soft flesh of her breasts, he gave a deep-throated groan, basking in the supple heat as she arched into the touch.

With his gaze, Maktov’s hand also trailed down her body, his nails scraping down her skin while shadows took over at her breasts. Thalia whined, goosebumps kissing her flesh, as the familiar cool and feathery touch encompassed her nipples, tugging and rolling about them.

Anticipation crept up her spine as Maktov’s hand slid to her inner thigh. His nails dug against the soft flesh, another deep chested groan reverberating into her back. His other hand, fingers slipping away from her clit, dip a little further between her lower lips.

Both shuddered, now realizing how wet and hot and ready Thalia was. Maktov’s fingers, slickened with her, returned to her clit, stroking with slow and agonizing circles. His gaze traced down the ‘v’ of her legs, yearning to bury himself - mouth, tendril, or otherwise - into the tempting heat. The scent of her a pheromone-filled allure.

“M-Maktov,” Thalia gasped, catching his attention. She pressed her cheek, warmed with a flush, against his arm. 

“Yes?” The word came out deep and low, thick with lust.

“Can you…” she trailed off, unable to find her words or her breath as his fingers stroked between her lower lips again, teasingly close to her entrance. Her hips arched, obviously wanting a deeper touch. Maktov denied her, though, returning his digits to teasing the bundle of nerves.

Against her ear, she could feel his lips twist into a teasing smile. “Can I what?”

She couldn’t even fight the passion long enough to be agitated with him. Embarrassed heat clawed up Thalia’s shoulders and across her face. It mixed and mingled with the warm pleasure, being at once unbearable and delightful. She bit her lower lip, an ache and pressure building inside her. “Can you… penetrate with your shadows?”

In the quiet, his motions stilled. 

That question of hers brought a slew of desire and carnality tumbling through Maktov’s thoughts. He only barely managed to clench down on them, keeping a tendril from plunging into her without any further comment. Closing his eyes, he tried to calm his thoughts. It’d be easy to admit he could, but how badly would he ache to delve into her later on? How badly would he want to fuck her with other anatomy? What would this even lead to?

She trembled as his long and slow breaths puffed hotly against her ear, prompting Maktov to open his eyes. A hot ache tore at his insides. All these complications and concerns were a problem for future Maktov. Right now, he had her in his arms, strung tight with libido with his own hunger returning the call. 

“Yes,” he said finally, his hand at her thigh drifted to her opening, a finger teasing along her seam. “Should I demonstrate?”

She shivered, hips tilting to his touch, wanting more. Her imagination taunted her with anticipated sensation, her inner walls tensing at the very thought of intrusion. 

A voice at the back of Thalia’s head told her to stop. This wasn’t how peers or classmates interacted. This wasn’t what she wanted!

…probably. Briefly, memories of long and lonely nights, nights when she craved someone to satisfy her, if not more. Opening her eyes, Thalia was only met with a sheet of darkness. Though, she could feel his gaze on her. Hot and hungry, but waiting for her. 

Thalia shifted against him, pushing her back flush against his chest, the back of her head meeting his shoulder. Against her ass, the telltale heat and firmness of an erection throbbed. Vaguely, she wondered if - by fucking her with a tendril - he’d feel it in his cock. That thought sent an excited prickle through her core. “Yes, please.” 

At once, an unseen shadow tilted her head as his mouth found hers. His fingers teased between her lips, spreading her to the open air. Thalia whimpered just as the cool, feathery touch of his shadows parted her. She gasped against Maktov’s kiss, hips tilting to ease him in further. He moaned in response, his own hips jerking without thought as the darkness thrust deeper inside.

He could faintly feel her warmth and softness through his shadows. It was muted and only made him crave a more authentic touch. If she felt this good now, he could only imagine what it felt to genuinely be buried inside her. 

Thalia clung to his arms, her brain floundering to describe what she was feeling. The groping delight of his other shadow tendrils didn’t help the messy heat in her thoughts. Unlike the unyielding firmness of silicone, unlike the hot malleable pressure from a dick. Unusually cool, given the heat boiling inside her, and - somehow - hard for her muscles to grip. Yet the darkness filled her, writhed and throbbed inside her.

The tendril thrust, never completely leaving her. Like a tide, the shadow ebbed and flowed, filling her before easing away, only to return. There was always the sense of lingering darkness, licking at the deepest parts of her, before a harder, thicker, heavier shadow crushed into her.

Maktov’s breaths hitched, his chest rising and falling heavily against her. Straining against his pants, his erection pulsed as he watched Thalia eagerly squirm around his shade. Every moan and arch of her back, every gasp that perforated their kiss, made his insides twist tightly. Pressure built up beneath his surface, his hips occasionally jerking and grinding his needy anatomy against her.

Even in her throes of passion, Thalia responded to him. Pressing back, rubbing against the heat in his pants, before spreading her legs a little wider to his shadows. At some point, his fingers had gone back to swirling around her clit, eliciting tremors from her. 

Her insides clenched at his shadows, never quite finding that firmness they sought, but still delighted, still enjoying the pressure inside.

As her muscles strung tight, teetering on a precipice, Thalia pressed back into his chest, fingers digging into his arms again. It was his teeth, skimming down the arch of her throat, pressing just a _little_ harder, that finally pushed her over the edge. With a loud moan, head thrown back against his shoulder and eyes closed, her body tightened around him. Heat exploded in her lower tummy, her back arching as she cried out, before shudders racked her body.

Thalia devolving into trembles only prompted harder, desperate touches from Maktov. His fingers teasing at her clit, his shadows erratically pulsing in and out, his own erection throbbing in response. At the back of his throat, he groaned, before his hips jerked hard against her and his own smoldering release lapped at his body.

Only the sound of their breathing, slowly returning to a less-lewd pace, filled the air. Thalia’s heart slowed as her body, slowly, relaxed. Her hand, without thought, trailed up and down his arms. Even satisfied, Thalia just wanted to touch Maktov.

His tension softened against her, enjoying her slow and sated touches. Closing his eyes, he enjoyed her trailing fingers and soft body and warmth. The warnings still lingered at the back of his head, hissing of future complexities and awkwardness. Warm afterglow muted the alarms, though. The shadows that previously pleasured her gently dwindled inside her, returning to the ambient darkness of the room.

They both simply wanted to stay like this, a little longer, before worries and concerns and everyday life sifted back into their lives.


	14. Chapter 14

When the warm afterglow finally oozed away, Thalia and Maktov were left with awkward alarms chiming in their head. Fumbling, the two managed to disentangle from each other and, after locating her pants and her phone, Thalia retreated to the bathroom to clean up. All the while, a keen of ‘what do you think you’re doing’ echoed in her thoughts. **  
**

Maktov’s inner musings didn’t dally far from hers. He sat back down on his bed, staring into the dark distance. _Fuck_. He sighed, heaving himself into a standing position as he made circuits around his room. It was an aimless movement to keep his thoughts from overwhelming him. He didn’t want to focus too long, lest curious considerations and desires overtook his mind.

In the bathroom, Thalia fared about as well as Maktov. _Shit_. What had she been thinking? This was going to make everything so much more awkward. Especially sharing her bed tonight. Gods, her bed! She pressed her hands to her face, stifling a groan in her throat.

Focus on cleaning up and getting dressed, she told herself. Everything else would be dealt with in time.

When the bathroom door opened, Maktov glanced down the hall, unable to keep from watching her return. Heat squirmed, lower in his stomach, as he watched her. His fingers twitched, recalling her softness beneath his hands, his shadows.

“Sorry,” Thalia laughed, a little awkwardly, and shaking him from seedy thoughts. She paused in his bedroom doorway, as if there were a barrier there. Her eyes flickered around the room, before finally spotting him. Or, perhaps, just his eyes. “Did you have to change again?” 

A new confusion bubbled up in his muck of thoughts. “Why?”

“Oh, I thought you…” Thalia made a motion with her hand, imitating a jerking motion before her fingers splayed wide.

Maktov watched her hand, before glancing back to Thalia’s face. “I did.”

“Oh. Is that comfortable?” She wrinkled her nose, glancing down at his pants.

Oh, she thought his pants were full of… Embarrassed heat climbed over his shoulders and the back of his neck. He could understand why shadow demons stuck with others of their kind, as far as sex was concerned. It avoided awkward situations like this. Still, he cleared his throat and mumbled, “My shadows cover me down there, too. So, I just… uh… kind of transport it elsewhere.” 

Thalia blinked, wide-eyed and stunned. “ _Seriously_?” 

She considered him, with her eyebrow raised as if she was about to call him out for teasing her. Instead, she fought a smirk as she said, “You must save a lot on condoms.” 

“I still have some,” he grunted, returning to his bag to needlessly shift his packing job around. He tried to ignore the new concerns dog-piling his thoughts. “In case my partners would prefer them.” 

As their conversation dwindled, awkwardness blanketed them like snow. Neither knew how or if they should breach the conversation hanging over their heads. After a few quiet moments, with questions whirling about her head but no courage to ask them, Thalia finally said, “I’m going to take care of the food while you finish up here.”

Maktov glanced up, catching the shortest glimpses of her as she swiped up the plastic tote and turned the corner. His jaw clenched against the swarm of confounding, and varied, worries. Forcing himself to focus on his packing job, Maktov busied himself by locating any obscure items he might need while at Thalia’s home.

—

After gathering up his bag of clothes and the tote of miscellaneous food, Maktov reconsidered the temporary living situation with Thalia. He was home. He should stay here, instead of wearing on her. Again, his brain bristled, reminding him of the pain and fright of getting jumped. He shook the thoughts from his head, before finally locking his apartment’s door and following Thalia to her car. Besides, he would still have to return to her home for his equipment. It just made more sense to stay, at least one more night.

When the two got back to her home, their focus shifted toward work. Which was easy enough, since neither wanted to talk about what had happened. The hours passed by with slight conversation as their work ethics settled into place; Thalia, working in her office space in the corner of the living room and Maktov set up in the dining room. 

The distance did them both good.

Though he had to take frequent breaks, applying the salve Mag had made, he just managed to finish his work projects for the day when Taryn burst through the front door. Without Maktov noticing, Thalia had emerged from her computer after hearing the front door open. It was her greeting Taryn that drew his eye from his own laptop.

“Hope you two didn’t do anything too naughty while at work,” the teenager crowed, waggling their eyebrows.

Maktov’s lips thinned, glad for his shadows to hide the creeping heat that would have otherwise given him away. 

Thalia was not so lucky. Red instantly stained her cheeks as an unamused furrow pinched between eyebrows. Taryn’s eyes took on a curious glint at their mother’s expression, a curl of amusement to their lips. Whether they suspected hanky-panky or not made little difference as three more teenagers barreled in.

Cherie and two others, Maktov noted. The two newcomers bumbled to a halt, eyes wide and on him. He inclined his head to them, glasses perched on his nose and screen exhaustion tugging at his eyes.

One of the kids sidled up behind Taryn. They seemed relatively human, Maktov thought, until he noticed their pointed ears and the yellow eyes. Though the lycan teen tried to whisper, their voice carried to Maktov anyway. “I thought you two were pulling our legs!”

Cherie snorted, “Why would I joke about something like that?” 

“Well, you and Tare are always trying to bullshit us.”

“Oh yeah, great joke. Hey, my mom’s classmate crush totally got jumped and is staying with us becaus-” 

Maktov didn’t hear the rest of Taryn’s sarcastic play. The last member of the quatro, a dryad with orange blossoms in their hair, leaned over to Thalia. They flashed a thumbs up and muttered a suggestive, “ _Niiice_ , Ms. Harper.”

Almost immediately, something flared through the atmosphere of the apartment. A prickle of the energy shift crawled across Maktov’s shoulders. 

“Alright, that’s enough! If you all are staying, go to Taryn’s room.” Stern mom mode took over Thalia’s voice, her words becoming commands as she stabbed a finger at Taryn’s bedroom. The jovial attitude around the teenagers wilted, just a little. “Maktov and I have work to do and we’re already behind! So scoot!”

After some dragging feet under Thalia’s glare, the four teenagers eventually piled into Taryn’s room. Though continued conversations could be heard through the walls, it was now muffled and undecipherable. 

When Taryn’s door had shut firmly behind the kids, Maktov cast Thalia a sidelong look. 

The blush soaked further into her face. She could feel his attention on her. The heat on her skin worsened as, yet again, the imp of recollection posited their earlier lasciviousness. Agitation prickled across her thoughts as she turned to face him, her hands on her hips, “What?”

“ _Niiiice_ , Ms. Harper.” Maktov repeated the words, face stoic and tone flat. The corner of his lips twitched, but didn’t quite manage to curl into a smile.

If possible, Thalia flushed further. Before he could teasingly question what they had meant - though he full well knew - she spun around on her heel. “I have some more work before I’m done.”

Maktov watched her retreat, caught between amusement and uncertainty. Her reactions certainly delighted him, but her quick retreat left something cold in his gut. Perhaps, teasing her just then hadn’t been a good move. Something had seemed slightly off, since his apartment. Since what happened.

Lips pressed together, he decided it was best to wait to ask if something was wrong. At least until the others went home and Taryn was in bed.

Though, part of him felt, perhaps, he was better off leaving it unspoken.


	15. Chapter 15

The rest of the evening flickered by for him. Pizza was ordered, teenagers gallivanted until they had to go home, and - finally - everyone was heading to bed.

Maktov and Thalia danced around each other through their bedtime routines. Brushing teeth, changing clothes, taking bedtime vitamins, putting new sheets on the bed after forgetting to do so earlier. 

Finally, the two of them settled into bed.

A few moments passed before Maktov cleared his throat. “Should we talk about earlier?” 

Thalia’s answer was a groan, as she rolled to face Maktov. “I should’ve known you’d ask that now.” 

His white glowing eyes narrowed. “What’s _that_ mean?”

“You’re much more direct in the dark,” Thalia sighed, hugging her pillow to her chest. A small barrier between herself and the shadow demon.

A soft sound came from him, not quite disagreeing but not conceding, either. 

“What is there to talk about, anyway?” Her eyes had fallen to her pillow, fingers fidgeting with one of the seams. “ You wanted to touch me and I wanted the same thing.” 

There was a quiet pause, before his words came out softly, like an uncertain caress. “Do you want more?”

Thalia’s eyes widened, a burning sensation crossing her cheeks. They were already in her bed. He was so close. It wouldn’t take that much to… Her brain thrust forth the first hiccup in the scenario. “You’re still healing, Maktov.” 

“When I’m fully recuperated, then.” Maktov watched Thalia curiously. Part of him wanted to reach out and touch her now, the desire itched across his palms, but he refrained. The uncertainty emanated from her like a newfound aura. It would be easy to overstep an unspoken boundary, and that’s not what he wanted to do.

Thalia agonized in her own head. She’d been trying not to think about earlier. It was a sudden, spontaneous moment, right? It didn’t mean anything deeper. Though, that thought soured her stomach, a bit. Biting her bottom lip, her gaze drifted toward the ceiling, tracing the shadowy shape of the ceiling fan. “Maybe.” 

“If you don’t want to, don’t push yourself.” Again, he used that soft tone, trying not to coax the woman in one direction or the other. Despite the disappointment swelling in his stomach.

“It’s… not that, exactly.” Her heart felt like it’d thrum out her throat, but she did her best to phrase her thoughts. “I’m still not used to casual encounters, I guess. Before Taryn, I had that whole ‘sex must mean something’ mindset, so I didn’t experience a lot. I’ve had a few casual nights, here and there over the years, but I don’t know if that’s what I’m feeling here. With you.”

“Oh,” Maktov breathed, brows furrowing. He wasn’t sure what he wanted from Thalia, himself. Something simple and carnal didn’t seem to be what she wanted. Which wasn’t his preference, either. But something inside him flinched at something more. Especially with a human. He’d never considered establishing something meaningful with one.

Turning her back to him, Thalia pressed her pillow over her head and curled in on herself. Her own words had left her feeling raw, vulnerable, and she hated it. “I don’t know what you’re looking for from all this. Plus, on top of your healing, we should really focus on the project. It’s just… there’s a lot to consider.” 

“I see.” 

There was a beat of silence. Then another. Frustrated tears bit on Thalia’s eyes. He was probably frustrated or didn’t care. Her fingers tightened into the pillow, holding it closer to her head. From beneath the pillow, she mumbled a muffled, “I’m sorry,”

She wasn’t even sure Maktov had heard her. Maybe he was already asleep. That would prove how superficial earlier had been to him. Thalia struggled with that thought for a moment, more tears threatening to fall though none had accomplish the trek. A slew of thoughts overcame her thoughts, wondering why she was like this, how others were so easy about these situations. Perhaps she was just too old to indulge. 

“Thalia?” 

For a brief moment, she considered not answering. Maybe pretending to be asleep. But, curiosity had her giving a neutral, “Mhm?”

“I want to touch you.” 

Frustration made her voice hard and barbed, “ _Maktov_.” 

“Not sexually,” he explained, with a sigh. She felt him shift behind her, as if he were fidgeting. “I wouldn’t complain if it went that direction, but just in general. I’d like to touch you.” 

Thalia half-turned, catching sight of his glowing eyes in the dark. Her brows furrowed with uncertainty while her gaze held a glint of curiosity. Though she couldn’t see him clearly, she knew he could see her.

“I think we both have liked it. Gods knows, if we fight it, it just gets pent-up,” Maktov coughed, recalling not just earlier, but the incidents before. “So, I’d like to suggest we continue. Not the hot and heavy stuff, but small touches.”

“Oh?” Thalia laughed. Suddenly, this whole situation felt juvenile, like two teenagers trying to explore what they felt for each other. “Like what?” 

“I don’t know. Just… affectionate touches.” At this point, he struggled with his words or coming up with scenarios. Though, he tried his best to consider what he’d hoped for. Heat climbed up his face, unseen in the dark. “Like fingers trailing on arms, or pecks on the cheek? Or laying closer together at night?” 

The awkward taste of his words broadened Thalia’s smile. She couldn’t help but jokingly tease, “Sounds pretty intimate, Maktov.” 

“Ugh, fine, forget it!” Feeling the burn of his embarrassment, Maktov flopped over, the bed squeaking under his sudden movement. 

“Wait, _wait_! I’m sorry, I was just teasing.” Thalia laughed, reaching for him. Her hand found the solidity of his back. Using her fingers, she felt her way to the curve of his shoulder. “It’s a good idea.” 

Under her touch, he tensed as tingling sensations branched out from where her fingers lingered. His lungs ached with sudden desire. A multitude of scenarios flooded his thoughts, some mild and others rather heated. He swallowed when Thalia’s tentative words reached his ears, “Will you roll back over? Please?” 

He complied, turning to face her. She still smiled up at him and he, not for the first time, was happy for the concealment of the dark. Thalia shifted, pushing her pillow back under her head before scooting closer to Maktov. His suggestion made her restraint grow lax. There was still a safe distance between them, though marginal. Encouraged by her proximity, he wrapped an arm around her, tugging her the final inch or so closer. 

She inhaled sharply as Maktov pulled her to his chest. Her hands immediately pressing against his pajama tee-shirt. The scent of him, dry and warm and reminding her of cedarwood, mixed with the acrid scent of Mag’s salve. Before she knew it, she had pressed her face to his chest, breathing deep. At once, the tension in her body oozed away and her eyelids drooped, surrounded by his warmth in the dark, cool room.

He didn’t breathe a word as her whole body leaned into him. Though, heat scraped across his cheeks and down his spine. Maktov’s other arm snaked beneath her head, pillowing her cheek and sifting fingers through her hair. Curling closer to her, his chin pressed to the top of her head, the fragrance of her citrusy shampoo filled his nose.

It took Maktov a moment to realize Thalia had already fallen asleep. Her breathing soft and level, her body lax, against him. Her face still buried against his chest. For the moment, everything went soft and warm for him and - for once - he allowed the feeling to linger as he drifted off to sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

“And sent!” Thalia threw her head back with a loud groan of relief, leaning back in her chair. The project had been finished with time to spare. Thankfully, the rest of the group - despite not being physically present - were right on top of their delegated tasks. Narration, editing, music, sound effects, credits. It had come together, rather well, despite the uncertain start. 

She placed her laptop on the coffee table, flopping back on the couch. She and Maktov had watched the finished animation on her television a few moments before sending the project in. His head inclined to her, a slight smile on his lips. “Well, that’s over.” 

“It is,” Thalia agreed, though some sense of anticipation tingled in her. She tried to shrug it off as the uncertainty of their upcoming grade.

“Now what?”

Silence crept over the two of them. He’d lingered at her home for the better part of a month, returning to his place for fresh clothes, toiletries, and whatever else he needed. In part, he was apprehensive to return home. Being alone, after trauma and after their current arrangement, made his stomach clench. And Thalia didn’t mind his presence.

Maktov had made himself helpful while staying at her place. Assisting with chores, cooking occasionally, doing odd jobs around the place that Thalia wasn’t too keen or knowledgeable about. Taryn had even gone to him about some of their homework, a few times. Hell, he’d even begun having mail temporarily forwarded to her address.

About a week ago, Mag had sent notice that the people who’d attacked Maktov had been caught and dealt with. Whatever that meant. Though, Thalia had some guesses after hearing Cherie hushedly talking about the new toads his aunt found. Thalia could hear the air quotes positioned around toads and found. 

Apparently, Mag had a whole menagerie in her backyard.

It was safe for him to go back, though. To his credit, he’d offer to leave and she told him it was fine, he could stay as long as he liked. So, he lingered, arguing it was easier to finish the animation project this way.

And now that project was complete.

The longer the silence lasted, the harder Thalia’s heart pounded. Of course, she’d thought about this moment. Agonized over it, actually. Especially after he had healed. They hadn’t fallen to temptation, despite his time with her, but there had been the touches. Her palm on his arm, his hand on the small of her back, fingers straying as they handed each other items, which evolved into snuggling on the couch or holding back pretenses of sharing a bed. It was their close proximity and how close they’d grown, part of her argued. Though, that part had gotten smaller and smaller.

“It’s still early,” Maktov hedged, throwing Thalia a sidelong look. He’d already made a, albeit tentative, plan for the night. “And Taryn is spending the night at their friend’s house, right?” 

“Yeah…?” Something wriggled just out of Thalia’s grasp. Some sort of realization hovering, tauntingly.

Maktov smiled, leaning across the short distance between them. “Then, how about we go on a date?” 

“What?” Thalia’s eyes widened, and instantly being bombarded with recollections of Taryn’s insistence on spending the night at Pheebs’s place. Her face flushed, embarrassed at the thought of her own child plotting against her. “Did you and Taryn _plan_ this?” 

Maktov gave her a broad smile, those sharp teeth of his bright against his shadows. “Perhaps.” 

She sat there, staring at his face for a moment. Every so often, she’d open her mouth, to find something to dissent with. But she’d always close it, realizing there really wasn’t a reason not to. With heart pounding, Thalia pushed off the couch. She could feel Maktov’s eyes follow her, curious and intent. 

Pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, but unable to meet his gaze with her thrumming heart and reddening face, Thalia mumbled, “Okay. Let me get ready.” 

—

The date swam by. It was a mish-mash of laughter, going to the underground market, and exploring further, enjoying the more festive night time atmosphere. It was truly much more alive in the dark, with vendors just beneath the pier, hawking wares, and some sort of stage performance going on. At both entryways, performers strummed a stringed instrument, their cases gathering tips.

As before, Thalia stayed close to Maktov, holding his hand as he guided her through the dark. Those little balls of light were offered, once again, and she realized many others poked through the dark market, holding the spheres in their grasp.

Even with the cool night air, there was a buzz of heat around the area. Or, perhaps that was just Maktov and Thalia. When their hands itched to touch one another, their lips grazing a little too often, their bodies drifting close and nudging one another, Thalia and Maktov decided it was time to go. 

Locked at the lips, the two of them stumbled through Thalia’s bedroom door. Maktov kicked the entrance shut, dropping the surroundings into darkness. In the shadows, the stumbles of two sets of feet, making their way toward the bed, filled the air. Every so often, an article of clothing would be discarded in the chaos of kisses and touches. 

The two settled on the mattress, Maktov’s back pressed to the headboard while Thalia straddled him. Both only dressed in their undergarments. Her hands slid along his chest, his shadows licking at her skin with that strange, feathery sensation. He had one hand at her jaw, holding her close to the kiss, while his other traced the soft curves of her side, landing on her hip.

Thalia was the first to wander from the kiss. Her lips teasing along his jaw and his neck. The shadows tickling at her lips and nose as he moaned. The air around them hot and tingling with weeks of pent-up desire. Her hands slid further south, fingers instantly going for his button and zipper on his pants. 

“Wait,” he gasped as he grabbed her wrists. Thalia tilted a curious gaze to his face, though she couldn’t find a thing in the dark with his eyes closed. Only the shift of his body beneath hers gave credence to his existence. “Before we get too into it, I want to show you something.”

Thalia’s lips curved into a smile, a snort leaving her. “I swear, if it’s your dick…” 

Maktov let out a short laugh, though a lopsided smile bared his pointy teeth to her. “Kind of, but there’s more to it.” 

“What?” She raised her eyebrows, curiosity alight in her voice. 

His hold on her wrists relaxed, but he pressed her hands atop her thighs. When his touch drifted away from her, Maktov said, “Just close your eyes for a moment, alright?”


	17. Chapter 17

His hold on her wrists relaxed, but he pressed her hands atop her thighs. When his touch drifted away from her, Maktov said, “Just close your eyes for a moment, alright?”

She opened her mouth to dissent. The darkness in the room was more than enough to hinder her sight. But, he opened his eyes and something in the glow and shape gave her pause. An earnest uncertainty emanating from him. Complying with his request, her eyes shut and she affirmed, “Alright, they’re closed.”

Maktov fidgeted under her and something in the air changed. Though, Thalia couldn’t even begin to guess what. A moment’s pause, the rustling stilled before he muttered a rushed, “Wait.”

There was more shifting from the man beneath her - as if he was struggling with his pants - and, suddenly, light flashed outside her eyelids. His cellphone? Thalia’s brows furrowed at that, considering his natural preference.

By this point, the urge to open her eyes was actively being fought against. Her eyelids flickered, temptation almost tearing them open. “What _are_ you doing?”

“Just open your eyes, before I get too embarrassed and regret this.”

Thalia cracked an eye open, sight adjusting to the dim light of the cell phone, before her breath caught in her throat.

A memory shimmered at the back of her head, from the first time he took her to the market under the pier. ‘I want to show you what’s beneath the shadows.’ At the time, she shrugged it off as a metaphorical saying.

It apparently was much more literal. Realizing that, something in her chest caught as she looked at him.

Maktov sat there, his shadows gone. Or, more accurately, they filled the room around them, making natural shadows deepen and writhe. Even away from Maktov, they seemed to resonate with his nerves. Some licking closer with nervous flicks. Though, her attention focused on him. She stared, taking in all the new details.

Short, dark fur covered his body, save for his face - a dusky dark brown - and the large, bat-like ears that pressed close to the sides of his head. She realized how apt the bat comparison was, as her attention slid lower, along his chest. A ruff of fur sprouted from around his neck, down to his chest in an upside down triangular shape, before becoming a relatively thin line that led down his abdomen, disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants. The longer fur of his ruff trailed up the back of his neck, to his head, where two nubby horns sat amidst the longer hair at the crown of his head. His eyes, a greyish-blue iris set in dark sclera, couldn’t meet Thalia’s gaze, and were made all the more obvious by the magnification of his glasses. His fingers - long and tapered - fidgeted on the bedspread, nails picking at the fabric.

Finally, Thalia’s brain kicked into overdrive, utterly unable to censor her first thoughts. Her hands grasped at his face, fingers teasing along the fur that lined the sides of his jaw. “You’re so fuzzy!”

He almost pulled away, before he caught himself. Thalia delighted in seeing a blush, for the first time, bleed across his cheeks. Even the tips of his ears darkened with embarrassment. He muttered in reply, heat crawling up his face. “I keep my shadows tight, so it presses all this down.”

“Why?” Thalia’s hands slipped down to his shoulders, to his chest, carding his fur between her fingers. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted the shadows seemed to soften and curl in on themselves. As she touched him, his hands went back to her, lighting resting on her hips. She didn’t notice, enamored with all this novelty, “Good gods, your fur is so soft!”

“Okay, okay, enough! Let’s just get back to-” His words cut off as he groaned, his hands on her hips tightening with a squeeze.

In her excitement, like a child unable to decide what feature to touch first, she gingerly traced a finger along the rim of one of his large ears. Thalia jerked her hand back. She gave him an apologetic look. “Guess I shouldn’t touch that.”

“No, you’re fine,” he breathed after a moment, hips rolling as a not-so-soft part pressed against her.

Thalia smiled at his teasing press of his hips, leaning into his body. Her lips teased along his neck again, her hands tracing soft touches down his sides. Maktov sighed, his own hands training up her back to the clasp of her bra. Though, her next words caused him to pause. “So, you look a bit like a bat.”

“Yes?” Mild tension pulled at his muscles. The gradual increase of carnal heat at his core stymied with her words.

“Sooo,” Thalia’s fingers crawled from his sides to his back. Anticipatory goosebumps prickled at his skin, making his fur stand on end. “Don’t a lot of bats have little stubby tails?”

The ruff around his neck seemed to fluff up in alarm. Maktov jolted, feeling her hands brush against his lower back. Suddenly, he flipped their positions, eyes wide and flush deepening across his face. She couldn’t help grinning broadly into his face as she shoved him to the side, rolling back atop him. “Oh, come on, Maktov!”

A flurry of laughter and frustrated words filled the air, along with the struggles of two bodies moving against one another. The bed squeaked with every swapped position. Eventually, the frustrated groans and goading chuckles shifted, turning into breathy gasps and, ultimately, into moans. The roughhousing wrestling also changed, until Maktov and Thalia were simply moving against one another, losing their last bits of clothing in the process.

—

Later, Thalia snuggled up close to Maktov’s side while he laid on his back, arm around her. Running her fingers through the trail of his fur on his chest to his belly button and back again. He grumbled lightly, yet again, about her fascination with it. Thalia just let out a soft, amused sound, but her fingers continued to pass lazily up and down. She watched the color rise in his ears, smiling gently.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes, resigning himself to the fate of being petted. After a few moments of quiet, Thalia roused the drowsing Maktov. “I think I figured out why I liked your teeth so much.”

“Yeah?” He cracked an eye open, an eyebrow raised.

Her finger traced along his nose, before grazing over his lips. With a broad smile, Thalia admitted, “It was the first part of you I saw that wasn’t shrouded in shadows.”

There was a moment of silence. A moment where color deepened in his face and her grin widened until it hurt. Finally, Maktov groaned. “If you’re going to say corny shit like that, I’m rolling over.”

“Wait, no!” Thalia laughed, feeling the flustered heat rise off him. She struggled to grab him, but Maktov untangled from her and rolled onto his side, back to her. Her arms wrapped around his midsection, pulling herself flush against his back. Pressing her cheek to him, Thalia listened to the patter of his heart.

Maktov’s hand curled over hers, holding them against his torso. He sighed, his back easing against her. With her ear pressed to his back, it was easier to hear his mumbled, “I think I love you.”

“I think I love you, too.” Thalia nudged her forehead against his back, warm and fuzzy feelings tickling at her insides. The two basked in the heat of their confessions, both feeling juvenile but satisfied. His thumb stroking at her fingers as she nuzzled against his back.

Though, it passed as Thalia’s mind shifted to a new question. Pushing herself up along his back, until she could wedge her chin at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, Thalia quietly asked, “So, does this mean you’re staying here?”

“About that,” he cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed. Though, Thalia wasn’t sure if it was their ultimate admissions or a new awkward topic. “My apartment’s lease ran out a couple weeks ago.”

Surprise jolted through her as she shoved herself up on her arms to peer down at him. “What.”

“Between the project and just not wanting to go back, I sort of… avoided thinking about it.” He didn’t look at her as he answered. The more Maktov spoke, the more his shoulders hunched and the quicker his speech became. And the darker a flush tinted his face and ears. “All my important stuff ended up here, anyway, so…”

Thalia pulled his shoulder back, tilting him so she could see his eyes. Obvious concern and confusion filled her features. “What if this didn’t work out?”

A strangled sound left Maktov’s throat as he shrugged, again. In actuality, he’d agonized over the possibility. Or over how Thalia would react to this news. His eyes drew away from her face. “There was stuff left that I got a storage unit for, so I can find a place to squat until a more permanent residence is found.”

“Maktov…” Thalia breathed, her lips quirking into a half-smile as he looked at her. She still couldn’t believe he’d been so reckless. And he hadn’t even told her! Though, she supposed he felt bad, not wanting to make her feel trapped with him. She sighed and shook her head. “I thought you were more rational than this.”

“So did I.” Hesitantly, he brought a hand up to her cheek, not quite touching her. He eased as she leaned into the touch, his thumb skirting her lips. “Things change, I guess.”

“You’re telling me,” Thalia’s smile flickered to full, considering what had definitely changed between them. From classmates in a group project who had started off on the wrong foot, to people who relied on one another, to baring shrouded parts of themselves. In the span of a month. Talk about a college experience. From the look in his eye, Maktov was musing over the same events, a teasing grin curled at his lip. “I started with a group project and ended up with a live-in boyfriend. Almost better than an A on the assignment.”

A relieved smile spread over his lips, showing off those pearly whites she loved so much, before he pulled her down into another kiss. She eased into the kiss, sighing delightedly against his eager lips. Thalia squeaked as Maktov rolled atop her, his forearms boxing her in, against the bed, as he deepened the kiss. Her hands found their way to his chest, fingers carding through his fur, reveling in the warmth he stirred inside and around her.

They’d have to deal with adult responsibilities, leasing agreements, rent, Taryn’s opinion, and more, at some point. Questions and considerations hedged at the back of their minds, but for now only the touch of their lips, the drift of their hands, the soft sounds that passed between them encapsulated their attention.

Even the shadows seemed to pull in closer, creating a small bubble of heat and dark, shutting them away from the world. At least until morning.


End file.
